


Always and Forever

by writerspassion18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anger, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Cheating, Cliffhangers, Dark Romance, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Infidelity, Love, Lust, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Possible Character Death, Regret, Revenge, Romance, Sad, Time Travel, Time Turner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerspassion18/pseuds/writerspassion18
Summary: “We were never over, Hermione,” he told her as he took a step forward. She took one back. “Our moment was stolen. You know that.”





	1. Professionalism

Hermione was squirming in her seat, but she could do nothing more then that. If she did it would attract attention. That was the _last_ thing she needed as Kingsley sat on her left , her boss to her right, and several clients at a long dining table in a rather posh restaurant. But Draco wouldn't leave her alone!

His fingers always grazed her hand when he passed her something from the table. His stare would never let up. He was playing footsies with her under the table. But now? Now, he had upped his game and kept riding his foot up her leg.

“Excuse me, Minister, while I head to the ladies room.” Hermione said politely despite being very good friends with Kingsley. Professionalism was key for tonight anyway.

Hermione escaped Draco's meddling by getting up and heading for the loo like she said she would. However, she wasn't stupid. She made sure there was no one in the restroom and hid in the corner just before it. The smell of his cologne signaled his coming and once he was in view Hermione grabbed him by the arm and practically threw him into the bathroom. Quick and well-placed spells would keep anyone from coming in or hearing them.

“Are you out of your mind?!” She yelled at him. “We're at a client dinner for Merlin's sake, and you keep molesting me under the bloody table!”

Draco tilted his head, hands in his pockets, and his eyes trained on her.

“Is that your only complaint?”

She could've slapped him.

“No, that is not my ‘only complaint.’ It… It's not right and you know it.”

Draco huffed. “Not right according to who?”

“Damn it, Draco! You can't keep doing this.” Hermione groaned. She ran her hands through her hair and took a long, deep breath. “You're married. _I'm_ married. You can't keep living in the past.”

“Funny how I can tell the difference between what's the past and what's not.” Draco said evenly. Hermione gulped and it sounded far too loud in her ears. So did her blood rushing and her heart racing as Draco neared her.

“We were never over, Hermione,” he told her as he took a step forward. She took one back. “Our moment was stolen. You know that.”

Another step forward.

Another step back.

“And I know you miss it as much as I do.”

Another step forward.

Another… No. No steps back. Hermione had hit the wall and now she was trapped. Stuck between a hard surface and _his_ hard surface, she had to bite her tongue as he pressed his body against her. Chest to chest, stomach to stomach, pelvis to pelvis… Every memory of him was flooding back, especially as he lowered his lips to her neck.

“I miss it because Astoria tastes _nothing_ like you.” Draco kissed her at the base of her neck, and then slowly ran his tongue just below her ear. “And you miss it because Weasley doesn't touch you like I do.”

Hermione's voice caught in her throat. She could feel Draco's hands on the outside of her thighs. She both regretted and was thankful that she had worn a dress for the evening as they slid their way up, one had snaking its way to cup her arse and the other to slip under her dress.

Her gasp was involuntary. Her moan was necessary. And she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest as she pulled down her underwear with a finger and proceeded to pleasure her where they stood.

“We miss it,” Draco continued, his eyes closed and relishing in every delectable cry she made, “because we'll never love them like we love each other.”

Hermione looked up at him abruptly, right into his eyes. Those same eyes that had held just as much sorrow as did hers when he told her about the blood-bonded arranged marriage he had no way of getting out of some five years prior.

“No, we won't,” she agreed, and then she kissed him.

* * *

 **Author's note:**  Originally posted on ffnet, there's a good chance I'll write more, but for now I'll leave it as complete until my other WIPs are finished :)

-WP


	2. Alcoholic Disguises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wrote more lol. Couldn't help it :). Hope you like wherever this goes!
> 
> -WP

Hermione spent the rest of the dinner with extreme guilt. Guilt because of what had happened in the women's restroom and guilt because she didn't feel as guilty as she should have.

It was awful. And she wondered how Draco could sit there so calmly as though he hadn't committed an atrocity where his wife was concerned.

_ He doesn't love her. _

That was as simple an explanation as any, although a terrible excuse to cheat. Draco cheated because that was all his blood-bound arranged marriage allowed him to do. Archaic and outdated, such a marriage only cared about keeping the couple legally married, but held no regard to infidelity. More modern wizard marriages included vows about staying true. Breaking those vows would cause the witch or wizard in question to feel an extreme amount of anxiety and guilt.

Hermione and Ron had a muggle ceremony. Now she didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse. When Draco no longer became an option Ron had become the next candidate. There was a sort of advantage to marrying your best friend. You knew him inside and out and he knew you. There were no secrets. There were no lies. The only problem was that when your true love of your life came back, you'd realize that the love for your best friend-turned-husband was better off as a friend.

It wasn't fair to him if her heart wasn't there. She had battled with divorce in her mind for the past two weeks, but why? To pursue a man she legally, and magically, couldn't have?

“Hermione?”

She turned to her right. “Yes, Kings-” she cleared her throat and smiled. “Yes, Minister?”

He hid his grin and gestured to the four clients who were at the long dining table with them.

“I was just telling Mr. Yama how excited you were about this new project.”

Hermione's face lit up as she addressed Mr. Yama. “Oh, yes. I've never worked on something like this before. It’s sure to be a wonderful adventure.”

“I agree,” Draco piled on. “Mrs. Weasley and I pride ourselves on producing the best work. That said,” he glanced at the woman in question. “She and I will be working very closely together to make sure that we're successful.”

Hermione wished she could kill him with her eyes. Instead she smiled sweetly and agreed.

“We’ll do our utmost to give you exactly what you’ve asked for with due  _ professionalism _ ,” she emphasized. Draco sat back in his seat with a smile, hands cupped, and tilted his head in her direction.

With a final round of drinks everyone shook hands and exited the restaurant one by one. Hermione instantly saw the hierarchy of politeness and hated it. The four clients went through the restaurant’s doors first. Then the Minister. Next was Hermione because she was Kingsley’s employee, but she was before Draco because he was a gentleman and ladies always went first. It made her skin crawl and her stomach clench because she knew that his eyes were roaming over her frame, taking in every stride her body made.

“My office or yours tomorrow morning, Mrs. Weasley?” Draco asked her. The clients were gone and Kingsley had bid his goodbyes. He and Hermione were standing just beside the restaurant’s entrance, the apparation spot just one block away.

“Mine,” Hermione replied. “I plan on going in earlier than usual so you can just meet me there when you get in.”

Draco nodded. “Fair enough.” He gently brushed her shoulder with his body as he passed her. And, without breaking his stride, he said in a low tone, “We can work on your definition of professionalism.”

His voice had hit her ears hard and it sent a tingle down her spine. Down her front too, and bringing back vivid memories of what had happened not too long ago in a restroom, of all places.

“Damn it,” she swore and walked away. There was another apparation spot, farther away, but she needed to walk. She needed to think. She needed get Draco's smell off of her before she went home.

* * *

 

Draco lived in a mansion. It had been a combined wedding gift from his parents and his wife's, and he abhorred it. It was a constant reminder that their parents had doomed him the moment of his birth to a life of regret and a broken heart.

Blood-bond marriages were antiquated and rarely ever done. Far less common when the bonding happened as children. Only the oldest of the oldest pureblood families still believed in it, which meant the Sacred Twenty-Eight. And even not all of  _ them _ had succumbed to such a tradition.

Draco and Hermione had started their relationship in secret and in denial. It had been one year after the war, tensions were still high, but they had been forced into each other's company because of his sentencing. Probation had been his punishment, and he had been required to check in with a Ministry official every two weeks. She had been that official despite not  _ really _ being a hired Ministry employee. Favoritism at its finest, but looking back on it now Draco was thankful. It brought him the love of his life.

Three months of awkwardness. Four months of flirtation. Two months of distant lust. A moment of weakness that solidified everything and caused them to want no one else but each other.

Her friends found out eventually. It was hard to keep an almost two year infatuation a secret forever. It had been catastrophic and it was a wonder how their friendship survived. Draco's friendships only mended  _ after _ his betrothal to Astoria was announced. Except for Theo. He had found Draco's relationship with Hermione “refreshing.” His parents, to his surprise, hadn't attempted to restrain him.  _ Because they knew he couldn't have her forever. _ That had been the hardest pill the young blond ever had to swallow.

Walking into his home with memories of this sham of a marriage, Draco scowled. He felt nothing towards Astoria. To him, she was just this person he was forced to live with.

And she knew that.

He had to give Astoria credit though. She tried her damnedest to get him interested. To get him to play the husband role properly. And whenever they were in public or at some function that's what he did. He held her hand, he kissed her cheek, he made her laugh… In private, though,  he did none of those things. He merely recoiled and dove back into his memories of the woman who should've been his wife in the first place.

Draco groaned and headed straight to his liquor room. It was, quite literally, a room with nothing but a small, round table, one chair, and shelves of wine and other inebriants.

He pulled out the first bottle he got his hand on, sat down, uncorked it, and poured himself a glass.

Draco had been living in Italy with Astoria ever since they got married. He'd been working at the Ministry there as a National Liason. With his charm and ability to turn a phrase, he was charged with making sure political dignitaries didn't make fools of themselves when they met with each other. He arranged every letter, every meeting, every Floo Call,  _ everything. _ And he was good at it too. It was why just two and a half months ago he had been promoted as an  _ International _ Liason which also included a transfer to England.

He hadn't known what had become of his witch. It wasn't until two weeks ago that Draco had been given his new assignment. Despite walking in the same building, breathing the same air, he hadn't known that Hermione was a Senior Muggle Relations Advisor. And with a new project that involved creating an immersion program for muggle leaders who would need to interact with magical ones, it would require  _ both _ departments’ help, and fate had an interesting sense of humor.

What could describe Draco's feelings on seeing Hermione again? Nothing but pure elation. Euphoria. An unnatural high that transported him back to when he was at his happiest.

But then his world was shattered when he saw the ring on her finger. Hermione was married.  _ Married. _ Draco was married because he had no choice. She was married because it was  _ she _ to make that choice. Her feelings had waned. She had moved on. It had been five years, so why wouldn't she?

He knew then that he had to restrain himself from pursuing actions she wouldn't reciprocate. And so he kept his eyes from looking right at her. He made sure to only meet with her with others present. He didn't even so much as pass her a quill in case their fingers touched.

It didn't work though. Earlier this week as they were walking from a recently concluded meeting Hermione tripped. Draco's instincts to catch her kicked in and he grabbed her around the waist.

The contact was electrifying. Hermione had looked at him and it was there,  _ right there _ , in her eyes that Draco knew her feelings for him hadn't changed. On the contrary, they were as strong as ever. But she was stubborn. He knew that. He had to make her prove to herself that she loved him still.

And tonight he did.

It worked out far better than he had intended, but he was still stuck, and perhaps unhappier, than before. Hermione loved him. He loved her. She could divorce alright, but his situation was the roadblock that trapped them.

Draco took a hard swig of wine at the thought and he kept on doing it. The bottle was gone quickly and he got up for another. About halfway through he started to feel it. A daze coming over him so that he was aware and not aware at the same time. He liked this feeling. He strived to attain it as often as possible. He was a functioning alcoholic, and if it helped him cope with the terrible predicament he would gladly own up to it.

“Draco,” a woman's voice called him. He was slouched back in his chair, his second bottle nearly empty, and he blinked repeatedly but it only obscured his vision further.

“You're drunk,” Astoria said. “ _ Again, _ ”

Draco didn't confirm or deny. He only knew that a woman was chastising him. It reminded him of Hermione. And if it did that, he could pretend, right?

He blinked harder this time, but his sight was still piss poor. But then again he didn't want to see  _ her _ . He just needed the outline of her. And then he could fill her in with his imagination. Hermione's hair. Hermione's lips. Hermione's hands, body, her…everything.

Astoria sighed and reached out to pull Draco out of his chair, but she gasped when his hand shot out and grabbed her. She was being pulled onto his lap and before she could protest he was kissing her. It was feverish, desperate, and wanted. He was far too rough with her as he bit her lips and roughly pulled down her slip off her shoulders. She cried aloud when his teeth and tongue latched onto her breasts and she held onto the back of his chair for support.

This kind of Draco Astoria was only met with on occasion. When he was drunk enough to not care about who he was with so long as he could think  _ of her.  _ Astoria would be furious about this in the morning. But for now, she would take pleasure in sliding herself onto her husband and riding him until the chair broke, all while drowning out the sound of his former lover’s name on his lips.


	3. Anything

“Did you have fun tonight?”

Hermione's blood turned cold and she stopped in her movements. She thought she had been in the clear. Ron had been fast asleep on the living room couch, the TV she had encouraged him to buy on a channel. She had been thankful and hoped to shower and be in bed in a matter of minutes.

Life was up to its tricks of torture again.

“It was a business dinner, Ron. It wasn’t meant to be fun, ” Hermione said. She had been halted in her steps to turn on the shower, but now that Ron was standing in the bathroom’s doorway she was moving even faster.

“How much fun could it be when you had to be there with Malfoy of all people?” He snorted. Hermione scowled and side-glanced at him.

“Don’t.”

Ron frowned. He leaned against the doorway and watched his wife tinker with the knobs in the shower. He saw how her hand trembled. He saw how angry she was. She was angry quite often these days. And sad. And just...not his wife. And he knew that it was entirely Malfoy’s fault.

“Does he still love you?”

That was the second time she was completely stopped in her tracks, and she turned to face him with her hands poised awkwardly at her back to unzip her dress.

“What?”

“Does he...still...love you?” Ron repeated slowly. Hermione let her hands fall to her side and she put up the bravest front she could possibly muster.

“He’s married.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It means that he loves someone else.”

Ron chuckled, although he was far from happy. “A person can love two people at the same time, but that doesn’t mean he loves them the same. So, does he still love you?”

“Why don’t you ask me what you  _ really _ want to ask?” Hermione rebutted as she crossed her arms. It was her angry, I mean business stance, but really her arms were there to support her from crumbling in on herself. “You want to know if  _ I  _ still love  _ him. _ Don’t you?”

Ron shuffled uneasily on his feet. “...Do you?”

Her arms started to loosen, but she didn’t let them fall. “I’ll always love him.”

Those words… Those words alone had crushed her husband’s spirit. She saw it in his eyes. Hermione had dropped a massive bomb, and she could deploy the final blow with something along the lines of, “I still love him and it’s not fair to you,” or “What kind of wife am I if I can’t love only you?” It would’ve been the perfect leeway into the topic of divorce. But then what?  _ That’s _ what always stopped her. Draco would still be married, and as much as she loved him to her core, she was still above being someone’s mistress.

And so she continued, “I’ll always love him, Ron, but didn’t you just say that it doesn’t mean that love is the same? I...love you more,” she choked out, her stomach making her want to wretch at the blatant lie. “Having Draco back in my life after all this time is just upsetting. That’s all.”

Ron’s gaze softened. “That’s all?”

Hermione nodded instead of spoke in fear that her lips would betray her. Ron still looked conflicted, but he walked over to her anyway and pulled her into a hug. Her panic and paranoia was at an all-time high now as she wasn’t sure if Draco’s scent was gone.

“When is your project with him over?” Ron asked her as he held her in his arms.

“I don’t know. A month? Two months? It’s a rather massive bit of work we’re doing,” she answered him, gently pulling away so that she could look at him and put as much uncomfortable distance between them. “But I promise that we’re okay,” she lied yet again. “Okay?”

Ron nodded. “Okay,”

Hermione had hoped then that he would let her go, but instead his hold on her tightened. She knew that he would be leaning in at that point, and so she braced herself for a kiss that fell short of what she had this evening from the love of her life. There were no fireworks. No tingle in her limbs. No need for more, but rather a need for it to be over. She internally cringed when she felt a hand on her bum and the zipper on her dress slide down and she broke off the kiss in a delicate manner.

“Let me shower first,” Hermione told him. Ron smiled, agreed, and left her to it. When the bathroom door closed she groaned and sat on the toilet seat.

Draco had been right. Ron didn’t touch her like he did.

* * *

Draco woke up that morning sore, half naked and, oddly enough, a splinter in his outer thigh. He knew that he had gotten drunk last night (when didn't he?), and so he could rightly assume that Astoria had taken advantage of his state and he had let her do it so that he could unhealthily indulge in his infatuations with Hermione. He couldn't tell if that was a win-win or a lose-lose situation.

Regardless, Draco got up, de-splintered himself, showered, and dressed. It was early, but Hermione said she would be in early, and so he found it pointless to be at home when he could have the brunette alone.

“Why are you dressed so early?”

Draco had been heading towards the study with the fireplace when Astoria came out of her, separate, bedroom.

“Immersion project, remember? I'll be going in early and coming home late for a while.”

Astoria snorted. “Right. You want to know what I remember about that project? That you'll be working with  _ her. _ She's married, you know,” she added bitterly.

Draco stuffed a hand in his pocket. “So are we.”

His wife was already angry, but now she was furious.

“Nothing you do with her will get you out of the bond,” Astoria replied with a stone face. “Not a lack of love. Not infidelity. Nothing. What's the point of pursuing anything with her?”

“You don't want the answer.”

“Oh, yes I do,” she answered stubbornly. “Tell me.”

Draco sighed. He couldn't say that he didn't warn her. “Honestly? I'd rather have a little something with her than a lot of nothing with you.”

He didn't expect sadness. A person didn't become sad if feelings weren't involved, and Astoria didn't love him. She felt rejected by him, and Merlin knew that she didn't handle rejection well, nor did she take kindly to competition.

Astoria began to smile in a way that made Draco narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“Have a good day, Draco.”

* * *

 

Hermione had been in her office for a little over a half an hour before Draco showed up. When he walked in she looked up and frowned. He looked tired, hungover, and upset.

“You never used to drink so much.”

“A lot of things changed when I couldn't have you.”

Hermione sighed. She should have known. When Draco had first come back he only interacted with her because he had to. That day when she tripped and he caught her, that had been the catalyst. And last night? That had opened the floodgates. He was uninhibited now.

“I have a potion for hangovers in my drawer,” Hermione told him. She missed the arching of his brow as he closed the door behind him and set his briefcase down on her couch.

“Already took one,” Draco replied as he sat down in front of her desk. “I'll be good as new in an hour or two. I'm more concerned than anything else.”

“Concerned?” Hermione furrowed her brow. “Concerned about what?”

“Astoria,” he grimaced as he recalled her unusual smile before he left. Draco looked at Hermione before adding, “She's not particularly fond of you.”

“Neither is Ron about you,” she shrugged. “What’s your point?”

“The point is Weasley’s harmless. Astoria…not so much.”

The worry on Draco's face was evident. Hermione, on the other hand, was more focused on his level of care. She took a deep breath, cupped her hands on her desk, and leaned over slightly.

“I fought in a war with Snatchers, Deatheaters, and Voldemort as my enemies. I'm not afraid of your wife, Draco. I can handle anything she tries to do should she decide to do something stupid.”

Draco found himself smiling and leaned back in his seat. “Spoken like a woman who's made up her mind about a few things.” He paused then before adding hesitantly, “Have you?”

“I know what you want me to say, but how can I?” Hermione answered sadly. “No matter what I do or you do, we can never be together in the way that we want.

'And to think,” she grimly chuckled. “I had the perfect escape last night. Ron asked me if I still loved you.”

Draco whole body went rigid. “What did you say?”

“I told him yes. But I also lied and said that I loved him more. I felt so sick.”

“I get drunk every night because I can't stand knowing that I live with someone that isn't you,” Draco boldly admitted. “I want you, Hermione, and that's never going to change. I spent the past five years an utter mess, turning into a prolific alcoholic, all the while scouring every magical resource to get me out of this marriage mess. To get me back to you. I found nothing.”

Hermione was uneasy where she sat and Draco noticed.

“What?”

“Well, it's just that… I did my fair share of research too, Draco, and there  _ is _ something. But it can't be done.”

Draco snorted. “I'll be the judge of that. I'd do anything if it meant having you.”

Hermione's face paled  “I hope not, because the only way to get out of a blood-bound marriage is if one of you dies.”

Draco's entire expression and body language changed at that. He leaned forward with his brows scrunched together and an incredulous look.

“One of us has to die?”

Hermione sighed and nodded. “It really takes ‘till death do us part’ to a whole other level.”

“You don't say…” Draco mused. 

“Yeah,” she brooded, rubbing (grinding more like it) her thumb into her temple. “So, unless Astoria becomes gravely ill, you'll become an even worse alcoholic while I stumble into a fit of depression.”

“Or we take what we can get,” he suggested. Hermione was confused, naturally, especially when he took out his wand and aimed it at the door. She heard it lock.

“I told Astoria this morning, in not so many words, that I'd rather have as much of you as I can get. I meant it. So,” he rose from his seat, his wand still in his hand, and aimed towards the door again. Silencing Charm this time. “Desk, couch, or floor?”

Hermione sputtered. “I'm sorry?”

“You heard me. Either you pick or I do.”

“T-this is reckless,” she said weakly. Not even on her feet and she was losing her resolve. 

“Yes,” Draco agreed, “but wanted. We've been denied enough, don't you think?”

He had walked around her desk as he spoke. Now she was trapped. However, instead of being backed into a wall, she was glued to her chair with Draco hovering over you, that damn event from last night back again.

“I cornered and seduced you last night,” Draco said, his face mere inches from hers and his hands on her chair’s armrest. “But today, you have to touch me first.”

Merlin, help her.

“Floor,” Hermione answered and ignored every warning sign as she grabbed his collar with both hands and kissed him.

The kiss was deep the moment their lips touched and she had no idea how the hell it got deeper. Draco tasted like wine and she moaned into his mouth when his hands found her arse and he lifted her out of her chair and onto the floor before her desk.

Hermione hit the floor with a thud, but she didn't care. She was too distracted by Draco rolling his hips into her after she had wrapped her legs around his waist. He slipped off his jacket while Hermione furiously undid the buttons on her blouse. 

The irony of this all was that she wore a lace, green bra  _ that unhooked in the front. _ Draco slapped her hands away and tackled it with his teeth. He'd always had an unusual expertise at that.

He also has a way of ordering her without doing so. Case and point, coaxing to relax her legs so that he pull down her pants and underwear with ease. His were down just the same and Hermione knew that this was the point of no return.

It was five years ago and they were making love like they used to. Her body remembered him and reacted in the strongest of ways to every thrust, every tease, and every swipe of his tongue over her body. Although the biggest joy from her, aside from repeated orgasms, was the look on Draco's face every time she moaned, screamed, clenched, pulled on his hair, and raked her nails down his back. All signs of her pleasure, and he derived his own sense of pleasure from it. He would do anything to keep her in ecstasy.

Anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this could be dangerous... Hope you that you liked it!
> 
> -WP


	4. With One Step

"Hermione, are you listening to me?" Harry asked her.

The answer was no. Hermione kept thinking about this morning. Not the sex, but afterwards. She and Draco had just laid there on the floor for what felt like hours. She had been enveloped in his arms, his face nuzzling her neck, his body cocooning her and keeping her warmer than she'd already been from their antics. Hermione didn't just love him. She was  _in_  love with him, and there was no turning back.

"Harry," Hermione swallowed deeply. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Ron?"

Harry's face fell. He took a moment to look around them since they were in a public place having lunch. And then, with hesitancy, he asked, "Is it about who I think it is?"

Hermione couldn't say anything. Instead she just nodded and watched her best friend's face fall even further as he discreetly took out his wand and cast a Muffilato Charm around them.

"Did something happen?"

Again she nodded. Harry gave a deep sigh and lifted his glasses some so that he could massage the bridge of his nose.

"I don't want to know anymore. I don't think I could take it if there were... _details._ " Harry groaned and leaned closer across the table. "Hermione, how could you?"

Hermione looked guiltily down at her half-eaten lunch and shrugged. "If you're looking for a long-winded explanation, Harry, there is none." She looked up and bit her inner jaw. "I never stopped loving him. When Draco came back I tried  _so hard_  to keep the feelings that I thought had died down to a minimum, but it didn't work. You have to understand that he was the love of my life. He  _is_  the love of my life."

"The 'love of your life' is also married," Harry said sternly. "Did you forget about that?"

"I could never forget about that," she replied sadly.

"And yet you fucked him anyway."

Hermione was insanely taken aback by his language, so much so that she was at a loss for words. Not that it was her turn to speak anyway as Harry continued his furious speech.

"You cheated on Ron.  _Nothing_  you say will rationalize what you did."

"I never said that it would," Hermione told him desperately. "I only wanted to explain."

"I'm not the one you should be explaining this to," Harry angrily huffed. "I'm not the one you should have told at all. Ron needs to know."

Hermione's eyes bulged and she panicked on the spot. "You promised you wouldn't say anything."

"I didn't promise anything. However, it's not my place. Tell him, Hermione. You owe him that."

"I'll tell him when the time is right."

Harry furrowed his brows. "When the time is…? There's no right time to tell anyone something like this."

"I know that," Hermione replied, thinking of how she'd been wanting to broach the subject of divorce for two weeks now. "But considering the circumstances, I don't have much of a choice."

"Damn right you don't," Harry huffed, pulled out a couple galleons on the table, and got up to leave.

With him gone the Muffilato Charm dissipated, and the noises around her that had been dimmed were in full effect. Not that there'd been much to begin with. Hermione and Harry had been having lunch at a quaint muggle restaurant not far from the Ministry. That was why the rustling caught her ear. Although it had been several years since the war, no person could leave such violence unscathed. For her, it was a heightened sense of awareness.  _Especially_  if she felt like she was being watched.

Hermione took a deep breath and calmly stood. She could do nothing rash being in a muggle place, and so she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She purposely walked by the bushes where she thought she'd heard movement. As she passed she whispered,

"If you want to stalk me, fine, but you won't see Draco and I together. We're not that stupid."

As the brunette walked off, Astoria, who was indeed hiding in the greenery, sneered after the woman.  _She thinks she's so smart,_  Astoria snorted as she pocketed her wand. In her other hand was a Ministry ID card with Hermione's face, her Department, and what floor to find her. Astoria knew from her husband that every Ministry employee was required to have one. And no, she wasn't stupid enough to stalk the brunette with the hopes of catching her and Draco together. She  _was,_  however, smart enough to find a way to get the witch as close as possible in order to summon the card without notice. And she did.

* * *

Draco had been wearing a smile on his face all morning and afternoon. Hermione loved him. She was his and he was hers. To hell with the technicalities. He would work within the confines of what he'd been given if that's what it took. First, Hermione needed a divorce. Despite her hesitancy, after this morning he had a feeling that she would have few qualms with going through with it now. Although an option had arisen to get him out of his own marriage, it was an unfavorable one. However, it didn't mean that he had to live with his wife. He could move out. He and Hermione could find something of their own, away from the populace because there would  _definitely_  be backlash from their actions. But it didn't matter. They'd have each other. It was all they needed. It was all they-

A memo flew under the crack of his door and landed neatly on his desk. He recognized Hermione's handwriting immediately and hoped beyond hope that she was writing to tell him that her schedule had cleared for the rest of the day and to head to her office.

What he ended up reading was nothing like that. It had wiped his face clean of any mirth and he sat erect in his seat.

_Your wife is here._

Draco rushed out of his seat and left his office. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he made sure to appear calm to others. It wasn't that he was afraid for Hermione's well-being per se, (because yes his witch could properly tend to herself), but he wouldn't put anything pass Astoria. And while a spell or a curse Hermione could defend against, how well would she do with subtle threats meant to physically hurt her?

When he reached Hermione's office he put his hand on the doorknob to turn it, but the door wouldn't budge.

"You can take down your wards, Hermione. It's me."

"Prove it," came her reply. Draco felt a proud smirk making its way onto his face and he took out his wand. Several wand movements later he was able to enter her office and found his lover sitting at her desk with a stone face, her wand on the desktop, and her fingers clutching the handle.

"I'm the only person who knows you well enough to be able to take down your wards," Draco said. Hermione's stern expression lifted and she tilted her head.

"Touché. Shut the door and redo the wards."

Draco did as he was told and eyed Hermione from time to time as he worked. "Where did you see her?"

"I didn't," Hermione admitted. "But I know when I'm being watched. Who else would it be? Throw in the fact that my ID was  _Accio-ed_  away, and I'd say that we have a problem."

Draco scoffed. "Your ID got called?"

"I felt it being eased out of my pocket and now I can't find it. It's the only explanation. Or I could be paranoid,." she added as she bit her bottom lip. After another moment she groaned and rolled her head back. "Yes, definitely paranoid."

"When you know someone has it out for you there's no such thing as being paranoid," Draco replied. He had finished Hermione's wards and moved to sit on the edge of her desk. "The point of the matter is that your ID is still missing. Whether it be my wife or not, someone out there is messing with the wrong witch. And now she or he have to deal with  _me._ "

Hermione looked up at him and smiled. "You've always had this thing about protecting me."

Draco stared at her fondly as he let his hand caress her cheek. "Of course. I always protect what's mine."

* * *

Draco stayed in Hermione's office for the rest of the day. Nothing happened, and Hermione felt incredibly foolish for worrying him for nothing. At that he had taken her face in his hands and kissed her with years of pent up love and lust before assuring her, yet again, that she was his priority.

At the end of the day they went their separate ways. Hermione went home with the intention of doing what she should have done last night concerning Ron. Draco, on the other hand, was going to scratch that itch that hat been tickled the moment he had gotten Hermione's memo.

Draco walked through the front door of his home with a burning sensation in his chest. There was anger present, but a calm one. A calm before a dangerous storm and that damn witch he had for a wife was caught right in the center of it.

There were footsteps upstairs. Draco looked up at the ceiling briefly before taking slow, purposeful strides up the winding staircase to the second level. He stood in the middle of the landing for a moment before turning in the direction of Astoria's bedroom. The door had been slightly ajar and he pushed it open.

She wasn't there. However, the door to her private bathroom was closed and he could hear a faucet running. Draco took this moment to pull out his wand.

"Accio Hermione's Ministry ID," he called. His wand had been raised in the air in case it wasn't actually in this room. Good thing, too, because it came zooming in behind him and landed at his feet.

By the time Astoria came out of the bathroom dressed in a negligee with a light robe over her, she released a starting gasp when she found Draco sitting in the corner of her bedroom, his lover's Ministry ID in his hand.

"Exactly what we you planning on doing with this, Astoria?" Draco questioned icily. "A very odd thing to steal, don't you think?"

Astoria swallowed, but maintained her ground. "Who's to say that I didn't find it?"

"Hermione felt it when you called for it, you stupid witch," he snapped at her. Draco stood then and crossed the room to Astoria while holding the ID at eye-level for his wife to see.

"I'll ask again, and don't lie," Draco warned. Astoria could see herself in her husband's eyes now, and lifted her chin in total defiance.

"I wanted to know where her office was."

"You could've asked  _anyone_  in the Ministry for the location and they would've gladly told you. Unless…" he paused and his narrowed as he came to a harrowing conclusion. "Unless you wanted to get into her office when no one would notice you."

Astoria's husband was always too smart for his own good. She rolled her eyes before crossing her arms and saying,

"I couldn't very well poison her during the day, or give any indication that I was near the Ministry at all, now could I?" Astoria rhetorically asked. She was smiling too, a sweet one that made Draco's blood boil. "I spent all morning thinking about it, you know."

Astoria watched as Draco's anger flared. That was the warning sign, she knew, but she felt so smug at this point that she simply couldn't help it and continued to fuel the blaze.

She moved from in front of Draco, causing him to turn around and watch her talk and walk her way towards the door.

"Should I leave a quill that seeped poisons into her body? Perfume that when inhaled torched her insides?" She stopped briefly at the door before opening it and looked back at him. "The possibilities were, and are, endless honestly. One dead witch wasn't going to destroy the world, except maybe yours."

Draco had lost all sense of feeling. He knew Astoria would want to hurt Hermione, but to go to such an extreme… Before he knew he was taking steps forward. Hermione's Ministry ID slipped from between his fingers onto the floor as he walked after his wife who was heading down the hall.

"You would kill her just because I love her?" Draco asked. His anger had bled into disbelief and torment as a newly incited worry over this dangerous woman who wore his last name overtook him.

Astoria was near the stairs now, and she placed her hand on the railing before answering, "I'd kill her because she's what stands between you and me."

Draco watched as Astoria turned to head down the stairs. His eyes picked up on her robe, leaving a gentle trail.

His feet moved. And one of them landed on the back of her robe with all of his weight behind it.

"And you're what stands between me and her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not murder me for the cliff hanger, but I couldn't resist! I hope that you liked the chapter and thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it :)
> 
> -WP


	5. Red Relief

_“And you’re what stands between me and her.”_

Draco felt tension under his feet as Astoria took a step forward. Her arms flailed as she began to fall and the sudden cloud of vengeance that had overcome him lifted instantly. He released his foot and stretched out his hand to grab onto her arm and pulled her back into him.

“Let me go!” Astoria shouted. She was fussing with him, desperately trying to get away from him, but Draco wouldn’t take his hand off.

“Stop it, Astoria!” He shouted back. “Stop, damn it! You’re going to fall!”

But she wasn’t listening. She kept using her free hand to pound at his chest and dangerously keeping her body near the stairs’ edge.

“I said, let go! Let me go now! You bastard, release me at once!”

“Fine!” Draco yelled, and he did let go. He let go with a push and he watched his wife fall backwards onto the stairs. Astoria tumbled down the staircase, her head and other various body parts butting against the wall until she hit the ground floor with an awful thump and even a crack.

Draco stood at the top of the stairs for several seconds before taking each one down to the bottom. Once there he stood over his wife, looking down at Astoria’s bruised and mangled form and blood forming at the top of her head. Just as he was about to check her pulse, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Astoria’s hand reached out and clutched the hem of his pants. She had locked eyes with him, trying her hardest to speak, but she couldn’t do it. Blood, most likely, was filling her lungs and throat and causing her to choke.

This was Draco’s cue. He should run now, get a Healer here, and have him or her tend to his wife. But that’s not what he did. He just stood there. He stood there and stared, fully witnessing the death of his wife one second at a time. Eventually life left Astoria and her grip loosened on his pants.

Draco backed up until he hit the stairs and sat down. He sat completely still as he unsteadily focused his gaze on Astoria's twisted body as blood continued to pool around her head. All he could do was rethink everything that had just happened.

The yelling. The pushing. The falling. The staring.

The yelling. The pushing. The falling. _The staring._

She had still been alive. She had clung to him. And he just stared.

The seriousness of this moment suddenly struck him hard. Yes, he had now freed himself from the burden of Astoria and could now be with Hermione the right way, but at what cost?

Murder and Azkaban.

Draco stood and ran upstairs to the Owlery. With a shaky hand holding a quill dipped in ink, he wrote to his only saving grace.

_Hermione, I need your help…_

* * *

On a normal night Hermione and Ron had dinner at seven. Tonight was no different except conversation was scarce. Ron chose topic after topic with the hopes of keeping her engaged, but they weren't working. Not that he knew, but Hermione was running through a thousand methods to properly tell her husband that she was a cheater, and a liar, and that she wanted a divorce. Each piece of information was going to emotionally kill him and it tortured her on the inside knowing what she about to do. This wasn't Ron's fault. He wasn't a bad husband or a bad person. It was just his misfortune of falling for a woman whose mind, body, and soul belonged to someone else.

“I know when something's wrong, you know,” Ron suddenly said. Hermione looked up at him and she knew that this was it.

Hermione took a deep breath and set down her knife and fork. She nervously rubbed her hands together and took a deep breath.

“There's…no time or proper way to do this…”

Ron snorted and crossed his arms. “The relationship words of death. Go on.”

Hermione felt her heart sink, but trudged on anyway.

“I should've been honest with you last night. I thought… Considering the circumstances… I thought I could ignore my past, but I couldn't. _I can't_.”

“Stop talking in riddles, Hermione,” Ron sternly replied. His eyes were hard and his face turning red with his rising anger. “Say _exactly_ what you mean.”

“I'm a liar because I told you that I loved you more than Draco, and it couldn't have been further from the truth. I love him with every part of me. More than anything and...anyone. I tried to ignore it because nothing could come out of us being together because of his damn blood-bound marriage, but nothing comes out of loving _you_ halfway either. You deserve more than that. More than me. Ron, I'm so sorry.”

Silence swept the table. Ron was giving her a blank stare and Hermione was on pins and needles waiting for him to say something, _anything_ , instead of practicing to be a mute.

“Did you sleep with him?” Ron questioned after several agonizing minutes.

“Yes,”

“When?”

Hermione tilted her head. “When?”

“Yes, _when_ ,” Ron repeated with a heated glare and a snarl. “When he came back? Last week? Last night after your dinner. Pick a bloody date!”

Hermione swallowed deeply. “This morning,”

There was a brief pause in the air before Ron laughed. It was a short, throaty chuckle accompanied by a devastatingly haunting expression that made Hermione feel uncomfortable.

“Couldn't even wait until sundown to spread your legs, I see.”

Those words were like a knife to the stomach, but Hermione took it.

“I deserve that.”

“And more,” Ron spat. “ _So_ much more,” he added as he rose from his seat. He paced the length of the table for a moment before stopping by her side and shouting, “You cheated on me! Damn it, Hermione! I thought… I thought we were happy. Weren’t we?”

There it was. The sadness behind the anger and Hermione felt lower than any person should ever feel. Not because she followed her heart. She could never regret that. Rather how Ron was dragged into this mess and how much he was hurting because of the ways she went about this.

“We were,” Hermione answered hesitantly. “But you never know what you're missing until...he comes back.”

First there was anger, then sadness had seeped in. Now the anger was gone and all that was left was the shattered shell of her husband and best friend.

Ron didn’t say anything more. He turned on his heel and fled from her presence. Moments later Hermione could hear her fireplace activating and knew that Ron was gone. Regardless of how it went, this was much better than she anticipated. The backlash from this all would pile up on her soon enough. He had gone to Harry, most likely, who lived with Ginny. Harry already knew, of course, but regardless of having a wife, he would have kept Hermione’s confession to himself and would act just as surprised as Ginny when the time came. Well, now…

Hermione groaned aloud at the mess she’d made, but also gave an internal triumph at having taken the first step towards rectifying her deceit. Just as she was about to get up from the table and go pack a few of her things (because there was still _some_ sort of decency left in her and she didn’t want Ron to come home to find her still here), an owl flew in from one of their open windows and dropped a letter at her feet before flying out.

Hermione recognized Draco’s handwriting instantly and it made her smile whereas she was feeling miserable. She opened the letter expecting words of encouragement of some sort because he knew what she would be doing tonight. However, a new dread filled her and she quickly ran to her bedroom to grab her wand and disapparated.

* * *

 

Former Deatheater. Member of a mischievous and devious family on _both_ sides. Knowledgeable in the Dark Arts.

And Draco had never killed anyone until now.

After sending his frantic letter to Hermione, Draco had sat back down on the stairs and stared. He was good at that, wasn’t he? The pool of blood around Astoria’s head was much wider now. And her body… Quite frankly she looked dead. She _was_ dead. If he touched her, although he didn’t want to, rigor mortis had probably already begun to set in.

Draco heard apparation in the distance. Normally no one would be able to apparate in so freely what with him being big on security and all. However, Hermione didn’t have Floo access to his home and apparation was much quicker. He didn’t have to look up to know that she was in the foyer. The tenseness in the air was enough to tell him that, and Draco slowly looked up to find her stunned, open-mouthed, and unable to move.

“You… You killed her.”

Those words felt like lead in his chest. Draco rose from the stairs and tried to walk over to her, but Hermione recoiled. That hurt even more.

“I didn't mean to.”

Hermione snapped suspicious eyes to him and pointed a trembling finger at his wife's corpse.

“We both know what her death means for us. How can you expect me to believe that you-?”

“Because you love me, and you know that I would never lie to you.”

Hermione let her hand fall. No, Draco would never lie to her. And despite Astoria’s death being a “good” thing for them romantically, it opened several unwanted doors. By looking at him, Draco was completely beside himself. Hair disheveled. Eyes bloodshot from absolute terror. Hermione’s heart ached for him and she walked around Astoria’s body to reach him and pulled him into her arms.

“We had a fight,” Draco told her as he held onto her tightly. “We were too close to the stairs and it just… It happened so fast.” His thoughts flashed to Astoria’s choking breath, her holding onto him, and his cruel staring.

Draco shivered and pleaded, “Help me. _Please_. I can’t go to Azkaban. Not after finding my way back to you.”

Hermione didn’t know whether to be shaken or not. He cared nothing about the fact that his wife was dead. Absolutely nothing.

“I don't know if I can,” she answered honestly. “Draco, do you realize how this looks? Your wife is dead at the bottom of the stairs. You didn't Floo St. Mungo’s or an Auror. You owled _me_ . Me, the person who's wanted you for years but couldn't have you because of _her._ ” Hermione took a deep breath and swallowed deeply. “You've domed yourself with this, accident or not, and now me too. Even if we do Floo someone now, it would be too late.”

Draco bit the inside of his jaw and glanced at the woman on the floor who was _still_ ruining his life, even in death.“Then what do we do?”

What to do indeed… They could get rid of the body, but suspicions would fly instantly at Astoria's disappearance. Even if they could provide a good cover story, it would never stick. If only there was a way to stop her from getting killed in the first place.

A wave of enlightenment hit Hermione suddenly. She wrestled with it for a moment, but considering all the times she bent the rules in her life for the greater good, a bit more bending couldn’t hurt right?

Hermione took Draco’s hand and pulled out her wand with the other. “Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Hmm, I have to rant for a little. I love this chapter, this story really, because the lines between right and wrong, good and bad, are very blurred. Was Astoria's fall an accident? Was Draco's staring on an unconscious level? Was it on purpose? It's hard to tell :).
> 
> Also MEGA THANKS to everyone who's been reading and reviewing!
> 
> -WP


	6. Round Two

They were at the Ministry. There were still witches and wizards heading this way and that, and it concerned Draco greatly that they were walking among them so freely. Shouldn’t they be in hiding? Shouldn’t they be creating alibis? Shouldn’t they be disposing of Astoria’s body somehow to save their necks?

Hermione pulled Draco onto a lift and seemed more than relieved that it was empty. He noted the button that she pushed would take them down to the Department of Mysteries.

“What’s down there?” He questioned.

Hermione looked at him as she answered, “Something that will help.”

Cryptic and intriguing. Draco didn’t realize that he was holding his breath until the lift came to a stop on the dark and ever fear-inducing floor of the Department of Mysteries. He followed the brunette to his right and down a winding corridor. At the end of it was a door and Hermione used her wand to draw an intricate pattern on it. It illuminated and once the light had disappeared the door opened of its own accord.

“Your job has nothing to do with this department,” Draco said, not even bothering to mask his surprise. “How do you know how to get past their security?”

“Luna,” Hermione replied simply. “She works here, and against department rules she’s shown me quite a few of the goings on down here. I feel terrible for breaking her trust like this, but desperate times…”

The room they were in was full of gadgets. Big ones, small ones, oddly shaped ones like hexagons and with buttons all around it, and circular ones with a square glass face. They lined the shelves in an endless fashion and were enough to make a person go dizzy.

Hermione went down a line of shelves to her left and picked up what appeared to be a ring from a small velvet box and held it up for Draco to see.

“This entire wing is meant for experimentation, and this room are for those inventions that are finished. Although,” she made sure to add, “they’re not for public use.”

Draco furrowed his brow. “Then why make them?”

“Why do people do research?” Hermione countered. “Knowledge. People have a thirst for it, to know things. They also like to see how far limits can be pushed. This,” she gestured to the ring in her hand, “was a test of those limits and a very good one.”

Draco took the ring from her hand and examined it more closely. It was nothing special. A gold ring with a red oblong gem on the inside. There were also engravings on the outside that greatly resemble Ancient Runes.

“What limits does this test? Death?” He questioned with wide eyes. Hermione shook her head.

“A Horcrux is the closest thing to compete with death, and even that has its flaws. This ring tests the limits of time, Draco.”

“It’s a time-turner?”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “But Luna and her team managed to improve upon the old ones. For starters, it’s something that you wear.”

“Not to mention no funky little rings to turn,” Draco added. Hermione smiled.

“That too. Unless you properly knew how to work them, the style of the original time-turner made it hard to use. Granted, you don’t want people going back and forward through time whenever they wished anyway. For the ring, you press the gem in the middle and say the exact date and time that you wish to go.

‘But that’s not all that it does,” Hermione continued. “A big problem with time-turners is that if you were seen it would be catastrophic. The ring eliminates that threat. It takes the consciousness of you and transports you where you want to go. In this way, you’re not a voyeur. You’re living out life as you've lived it before, or will live, should you be going to the future.”

Draco’s mouth slackened at her words and once again his eyes were gazing at what could be considered the most powerful object in existence.

“So, you mean to tell me that if I use this go to back right before Astoria fell, I would be  _ in _ my body?”

“Yes,”

“And how would I get back?”

“You don’t.”

Draco cocked a brow at her response. “I beg your pardon?”

“You go back to your life and live it from the point that you visited. The ring itself doesn’t travel with you, and it ends up here, right back on its shelf.”

Draco snorted and shook his head. “That’s completely idiotic. What if you wanted to travel further back than a point in your life? Or to a future beyond your life?”

Hermione grinned and crossed her arms. “You can’t, and that design was on purpose. Meddling with time shouldn’t be encouraged. The future can be destroyed that way. However, it’s a little less concerning if the only life you’re screwing up is your own.”

“Hmm, I suppose,” Draco mused now that she had explained. “And unlike a time-turner, you can’t come with me, can you?”

“No, I can’t, but you needn’t worry,” Hermione promised as she plucked the ring from between Draco’s fingers. She raised his right hand and slipped it onto his ring finger. “While your wife lay dying I ended my marriage. That aspect won’t change.”

_ That aspect won’t change. _

“Hermione,” Draco breathed. She stared at him with worry in her eyes, but then confusion once she saw his wide smile. “Even if I go back in time to change what I did, it still doesn’t erase the fact that Astoria  _ died. _ Do you think it’s possible that the bond will still be broken?”

Hermione was at a loss for words. She had been so concerned with keeping Draco from getting arrested that she only marginally entertained the idea that the blood-bond marriage was broken. But if he went back in time to change Astoria’s death…

“But she wouldn’t have died then.”

“Does the magic know that?” Draco countered. “Think about it. This is old magic, and you know as well as I that there are some magics that operate outside of time.”

“ _ Some, _ ” Hermione reiterated. “How do we know that this would even be one of them?”

“We don’t,” he admitted. Draco slipped his arms around Hermione’s waist and pulled her in close, his forehead resting on hers. “But after I fix this mess I’ll find out first thing in the morning when I attempt to file for divorce. And if it works, there’ll be  _ nothing _ to keep us apart.”

Hermione closed her eyes. Those words soothed her like nothing ever could. With a divorce from Ron in the very near future, and a possible split between Draco and Astoria, everything seemed so clear. So open. So...free. Hermione opened her eyes and pulled Draco’s face to meet hers. It felt like days since she last kissed him when all it was were hours. And hours, in her book, were just as bad.

She pulled away slowly and gently traced his lips with her finger. “If it works, you’ll have to explain what happened to me. Astoria’s fall and the ring.”

Draco nodded. “Of course. And if it works,  _ you _ , love, need to have the quickest divorce in history. It’s you who I should’ve been married to all this time. We have to correct that.”

Hermione blinked. “Was that an indirect way of asking me to marry you?”

Draco grinned like a schoolboy. “Yes, it was.”

Hermione felt like crying. Everything was happening so fast. The bad. The good. The  _ really _ bad, and now the  _ really _ good. She used a finger to wipe away oncoming tears and took a deep breath.

“You’ll have to ask me that again, you know,” she replied with a choking happiness. “Down on one knee and everything.”

“Was that  _ your _ indirect way of saying yes?”

“It was,” Hermione nodded. “Now, go and fix this mess.”

Draco swallowed and raised his hand where the ring lay on his finger. He was to press the gem and say the time and date he wished to go, yes? He didn’t know what time it was that Astoria took her fall, but he did know around what time he had gotten home.

“May 15th, 2007, 6:00pm,” Draco said as he pressed the gem in the ring.

At first nothing happened. However, the more he blinked, the fuzzier everything became. It wasn’t his vision though, but rather the world around him. Hermione too. It was like his environment was dissolving, morphing, and turning into something completely different. Whereas he was in a dark room, light was appearing from somewhere. Green was popping up in the distance to his left. New shapes in front of his eyes that resembled windows and a door. Even his own body posture was being repositioned in a way that wasn’t as he left. A new scene (for that was all he could describe it as), was being set up directly in front of his eyes.

When it was over Draco found himself on his doorstep, his hand on the doorknob, and the ring missing just like Hermione said that it would be. He went inside his house and, just like before, he heard footsteps upstairs. His heart was hammering in his chest. Astoria was alive. The ring had done exactly as it was supposed to and it was… Well, hell, it was unbelievable.

Draco stood in the foyer motionless and unsure of what to do. He had gone upstairs to find Hermione’s ID round one of this catastrophe. Should he do that again? Would it lead to unfortunate events just as before? He rocked back on his heels once before taking slow, purposeful strides up the stairs. If he did nothing, Astoria would still have it. He already knew of her devious intentions concerning Hermione and it was far too risky to let Astoria keep it. And so, he went in the direction of his wife’s bedroom and stood in front of it, the door slightly open as he had first found it. This time, however, Draco didn’t go inside. Hermione’s ID hadn’t been in the room, so he took out his wand.

“Accio Hermione’s Ministry ID,” he called. Her ID flew from the study some two doors down, and Draco wondered why exactly Astoria had hidden it there. Not that it mattered. Draco had it now and he would hold onto it to give to Hermione tomorrow.

As for Astoria, despite how much he wanted to confront her on what she’d done, Draco knew now that that wasn’t the best idea. Who was to say that a new fight wouldn’t form and lead to the same unfortunate consequences? So he knew, there were two theories of time. Either a future event was changed totally or, and the most terrifying, the avenues to a future event could change, but the outcome was still the same.

Draco hoped with everything he had that the latter was not the case.

* * *

Harry felt extremely uncomfortable. The last time he had seen Ron so distraught was when he found out Fred was dead. And yes, Harry supposed that this could qualify as a death. An emotional one anyway. He sat back in his armchair, watching Ginny as she tried to console her brother.

It wasn’t working very well.

“I still can’t believe that Hermione would do this to you,” Ginny frowned as she sat on the floor next to Ron and gently rubbing his knee. “Are you sure that...I don’t know…Malfoy didn’t put a spell on her or something? Harry,” she addressed him. “You’re an Auror. Surely you would be able to detect an Imperius Curse on her wouldn’t you?”

“She meant what she said, Ginny,” Ron said hoarsely. He took a deep breath and ran his hands over his tired face. “She doesn’t love me. Not like she loves... _ him. _ ”

“But what about what she said in the bathroom the other night?” Ginny pushed. “You said that she sounded sincere. That she-”

“She’s a  _ liar _ ,” he argued against her. “Said so herself and  _ that _ I believe. She’s going to divorce me and play mistress to that manipulative bastard.”

Ginny flinched at the word “mistress” and pleaded with Harry. “You’re her best friend. Talk to her? Please? She has to realize how much of a mistake this is. Even… Even if she doesn’t stay married to Ron, to run to someone who legally can’t even have her is pointless. She’s only hurting herself. Please, Harry?”

Harry took a deep breath and massaged his temples with rolling thumbs. He thought about his conversation with Hermione earlier that day and both saw and heard the determination she had in being with Malfoy. He sighed.

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” he answered honestly. “Hermione seems pretty set on what she’s set out to do. But...I’ll try.”

* * *

 

Astoria had heard when her husband came home. He didn’t acknowledge her existence nor had she expected him to. At this point she didn’t care. She had an agenda and needed tonight to be free and clear of any animosity she had with her husband so that she could plan her next move carefully.

Hermione Granger. Weasley, so her ID card said. That bitch of a brunette had been her obstacle for years without physically being present. Astoria’s father had told her of her betrothal to Draco when she was sixteen. It wasn’t customary to be told so early, but she had beguiled it out of her father on a night when he had had too much to drink and it was the best well-kept secret she could have ever uncovered. Draco Malfoy. A prominent family, wealth untold, handsome, and she and her children would be wildly socially accepted. It was every pureblood woman’s dream.

Oh, how she had fantasized about it for years. Four years, to be exact. She had known that Draco had been seeing the mudblood, but as her parents had dutifully told her, it was just a fling. He couldn’t have  _ really _ loved her or held her in any high regard. Unfortunately, Astoria came to see first hand that that had  _ not _ been the case. Draco had been, and still was, deeply in love with that holier-than-thou witch. But she didn’t let that stop her. Astoria worked her arse off trying to make him forget that woman, but nothing worked. Not her body, not her overall looks, not her attempts at doting on him,  _ nothing. _ These past five years were an utter nightmare, and Astoria blamed Hermione Granger for every moment of it.

As Astoria lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her hatred for Hermione bubbled in her chest and settled in her stomach. That woman was her obstacle. Maybe Draco wouldn’t come to love her like she wanted, like she deserved,, but he damn sure wouldn’t be able to do it while she was still around. It was like having your favorite dessert right in front of you and being told that you weren’t to touch it.

It was about time to regulate Draco’s sweet tooth.

Astoria had a few resources she could dive into to carry out her plan. They were subtle enough not to be traced back to her, and that was the most important. The Daily Prophet and other media outlets could speculate all they wanted so long as it wasn’t her name they were spouting. A little money thrown the right way would help to ensure that.

“Poisonous quill or perfume?” Astoria mused aloud. Despite subtlety, she also wanted it to hurt. That, in her book, was essential.

Astoria leaned over to grab her wand from her nightstand to Accio the witch’s ID to her. It was late, and so she wasn’t worried about Draco finding it zipping through the hall and slipping under her door. He would most likely be asleep right about now or getting drunk. A bonus considering that she had hidden it among his things in the study down the hall. She had taken it so that she could have ample time to memorize the woman’s office location. No writing it down so there could be no evidence. No keeping it among her own possessions. Draco was sleeping with the brunette anyway, so why not have something of hers with him?

“Accio Hermione Weasley’s Ministry ID,” Astoria called. She furrowed her brow after a few passing seconds and sat up. “Accio Hermione Weasley's Ministry ID,” she summoned again. Nothing.

Astoria grumbled and got out of bed. She looked both ways down the hall before heading to the study. She had slipped the ID between two books on her husband's bookshelf, however, it wasn't there. Her face morphed into a horrible expression as she pulled out more books, messily letting them fall to the floor in case she had mistaken where she had put it.

Astoria cut her eyes towards the door and sucked her teeth in an unladylike fashion as she left the study and stood in the hall. She did a quick Locator Spell and watched as a tiny ball of light floated from her wand and headed down the opposite end of the hallway. She followed it and ended up in Draco's bedroom where the blond was sleeping soundly on his side facing away from her.

Astoria huffed quietly to herself. Figures that husband-stealing bitch would confront Draco about what had happened near the restaurant that day. Although, it wasn't very like Draco to stumble upon a conspiracy and not do anything about it.  _ Especially _ if it concerned the “love of his life.”

She pondered what his rationale was as she took careful strides towards the drawer of one of the nightstands. He must have something going on in that head of his if the witch’s ID wouldn’t come to her (a very strong and complex Sticking Charm to be precise). She would have to make a duplicate of it now and dispose of it when finished. Not ideal, to have a copy, but necessary.

Astoria glanced at Draco once before reaching out her hand and slowly pulling out the top drawer. She used her wand to remove the charms and stowed it away when she was through. Her hand had just grazed the laminated card when she gasped at the tight grip that had just latched onto her wrist.

“Looking for something?” Draco asked as he snapped his eyes open. He didn't let go of his wife's wrist, however. He held on even tighter.

Astoria would never admit how much his grip hurt. Instead she swallowed and claimed innocence.

“No, nothing.”

“Then leave.”

Draco let go then and Astoria quickly pulled her hand back to chest. She didn't say anything more and turned on her heel to leave before stopping abruptly at her name being called.

“What is it?” She turned back around and found him lying on his back, wearing an expression he reserved only for those on his enemy list.

“Keep your hands away from my witch,” Draco ordered. Then, perhaps in poor taste, he added, “We wouldn't want anything to happen to you if you did.”

Astoria choked, and her eyes widened as she stuttered, “Is…? Is that a  _ threat? _ ”

Was it? She had died once, hadn't she? As he had pondered to himself earlier, she was equally likely to die in this lifetime too, _ particularly _ if she was targeting Hermione. And so, Draco sighed, answering in the best way he could. One that would be honest, and one that would also rattle her cage.

“I don't know.”

Draco smiled and she blanched. He released a deep, throaty laugh too, and lay back down as he had been at the first.

“Goodnight, Astoria.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! First and foremost, credits to where its due belong to the film X-Men: Days of Future Past. When it comes to time travel fics, I am 80% opposed to writing them lol. It's due to my difficulties in keeping time straight. And so, for the purposes of this story I wanted to alter the traditional JK Rowling time-turner to make it less complicated for 1) myself, 2) the characters, and 3) the story. All in all, the idea of making the time-turner a ring was mine as well as living out your life from the point you return to and not returning to your present. However, the whole "it's his consciousness" that goes back belongs to the film.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> -WP


	7. Breaking

Draco had woken up earlier than usual the next day. The first thing he did was open the drawer to find Hermione's Ministry ID still there. Not that he had expected it to be missing. After Astoria had left he had reapplied the Sticking Charm, plus several others, and warded his bedroom.

He showered, dressed, and was on his way to leave when an owl flew in through his window. It was from Hermione, of course, who asked him to come to her office early, if possible. Not a problem. He just had a few errands to run first, including telling her, that under _no_ circumstances, was she to enter her office alone.

Draco prepared his things for the work day, did a quick scan of the house with his wand to detect if Astoria was there, and left once he was satisfied.

His first stop was the home of a man that he hadn't seen in five years. It was where kept his office, choosing to have clients on his “playing field,” for lack of a better term, in case things turned south. Needless to say, this man was a solicitor. He had been handling Malfoy affairs since Draco was an infant, and that was why they would never let him go. He knew too much.

Draco let himself into the house. He still remembered the way to his office and opened the door once he had reached it.

“Lester,”

Lester Walloby, a slightly older than middle-aged man, looked up from his work in surprise at his morning guest. “Draco? Well, I never expected to see you again.” He set down his quill and cupped his hands on his desk. “Last I remember I wasn’t very high on your list of friends.”

“You were never on that list to begin with,” Draco corrected as he closed the door after him. “You did, after all, have a hand in enforcing that horrid marriage between Astoria and myself.”

Lester huffed. “It’s a true pureblood’s way. Had you not been running around with that mudblood you wouldn’t have been so opposed.”

Draco’s nostrils flared at such language directed at Hermione, but he restrained himself. He even smiled.

“It’s only because I need you, Lester, that I won’t do anything to you for your poor choice of words.”

“You need me?” Lester asked, genuinely intrigued.

“That’s right. I know you hold my and Astoria’s marriage contract. Get it.”

Lester eyed him warily and leaned back in his seat, but he didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because I know three curses that’ll scorch your insides if you don’t,” Draco threatened. Lester kept his cool at such a threat as that, however he did move this time. The blond watched as the older man went over to his bookshelf and smoothed his index finger down one of the books’ spine. The unusually thick shelf that it was sitting on slowly ejected itself out and Draco held his breath.

He would know at a moment’s viewing if the bond had broken or not. It was because the contract that bound him and Astoria together had morphed into stone. _Unbreakable_ stone, to be precise. He had felt it in his hands when he found out about the betrothal and had tried to break it by smashing it on the ground. And now, as Draco lay eyes on his and Astoria’s marriage contract for the first time in five years, he felt a wave of euphoria as Lester’s face fell into despair.

“How in Merlin’s name…?” Lester breathed. The contract was in his hand. It was parchment. No stone. Just a nimble agreement that could easily be ripped apart. Lester rounded on him quickly. “What did you do?”

Draco smiled, perhaps devilishly, as he observed the man’s horror. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

Lester nearly ran up to Draco and placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. “ _What_ did you do? _What did you do to Astoria?!_ ”

“Like what, exactly?” Draco teased. Lester only grew more frantic and swore.

“Damn it, Draco! There’s only one way to break a blood bond marriage!”

“Is there?” He replied icily with a narrowing of his eyes. “And yet, after all these years knowing how unhappy I was, you let me suffer with her?” Draco tutted and shook his head. “I know what you’re insinuating, but Astoria’s alive and well. That contract, however, has seen better days.”

Lester looked down at the contract. Whereas it had been a sturdy stone, now it lay limp in his hand, old, and withered.

“If she’s alive, then what did you do?”

Draco’s face lit up joyously. He even winked. “My little secret. Now, destroy it.”

Lester turned his eyes back to Draco. “No.”

“Lester,” Draco hissed as he clamped his hand on the back of his neck.. Lester winced. “Need I remind you about those curses?” He had pulled out his wand as he spoke and pressed its tip to Lester’s throat. “It wasn’t an idle threat.”

Regret was living in Lester’s eyes, but he could do nothing about it. With the contract in his hand Lester burned it to ash. Draco had thought he was happy before, but now? Now he was bordering on mania.

“Thank you,” Draco said politely as he released his hand and wand arm. Lester snorted.

“Thank you my arse,” he grumbled. “Astoria won’t be pleased with this. Nor her family or yours.”

“Most likely not,” Draco shrugged. “They won’t be pleased with my next request from you either. And by request, I meant order.”

* * *

Hermione was anxious. She nervously wrung now ring-less hands together as she thought of the morning she had planned out so well. First, she was going to tell Draco that she told Ron the truth last night and that they were going to get a divorce. Next, she was going to tell him that she had gathered all of her necessary things, threw them all into a trunk with an Undetectable Extension Charm on it, and relocated to a hotel for a (regrettable) hefty price per night. Then she was going to go on a nervous, rambling tirade about not knowing what was going to happen next because Draco was, _still_ married.

However, all of her planning came to a crashing halt when Hermione got Draco’s letter this morning. He had forbidden her from going into her office, and alone at that. Her mind instantly went to Astoria and the fact that she had her Ministry ID. What was that woman planning? And what did it have to do with her office, if anything? Of course, she would have to find a to get through complicated wards, but to put a task like that past a woman like Astoria would be foolish.

“Morning,”

Hermione let go a scream that could have woken the dead and slapped Draco on the arm once she realized that it was him.

“For Merlin's sake! You don't sneak up on people like that!”

Draco was grinning like a fool. “All I did was greet you.”

“Yes,” Hermione replied in an agitated tone. “After I’ve been standing in this hall for countless minutes wondering if my office was bloody booby trapped!”

At that Draco laughed. His witch was completely flustered and it was one of his favorite looks on her. Granted, everything about her was his favorite, but still....

“It’s far too early in the morning to be this riled up,” he told her. “Unless, of course, I’m the reason why.”

Out of pure spite Hermione wanted to argue with him and point out, quite correctly, that he was in fact the reason she was so fussy this morning. But just like her well thought out rant, that also wasn’t going to happen. There was something about Draco that made her forget everything. All of her pain, all of her worries, everything that sought to hurt her. She relished in his kiss and his touch. _Especially_ his touch. Especially now as Draco's hand traveled her back to cup and squeeze her arse briefly before sliding towards her front. Just when Hermione thought a repeat of the restaurant was about to happen, she felt something neatly slip into her pocket.

“You can have that,” Draco said merrily before kissing her on the cheek. “Now, wait here until I'm done.”

Hermione was confused. She watched him undo her wards and then enter her office. In the meantime, she pulled out of her pocket her Ministry ID which, although calmed her, brought up new questions.

“Draco, what-?” Hermione paused. Her eyes followed him as he held out his wand and passed it over various objects in her office. Her quill stand, her drawers, her picture frames, and her chair, just to name a few. He continued to do this until the entire office was thoroughly checked and he was satisfied.

“Alright, you can come in now.”

“Draco, what’s going on?” Hermione finally got her question out. She entered her office and closed her door behind her, her hands neatly settled on her hips. “Astoria obviously had my ID, but there’s something that you haven’t told me yet.”

Draco stowed his wand away and looked at her with his first frown of the morning. “Astoria wants to kill you.”

“Hurt me,” she corrected. “You mean that she wants to _hurt_ me.”

“No, I mean kill. A poisonous quill was one of the proposed methods.”

Hermione tried to keep her mouth closed, but her jaw kept dropping. “She’s mad. She’d honestly resort to murder just because you love me?”

“Love you, want to be with you, marry you…” Draco stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “She wants to get rid of you because you’re all that I’ve ever cared about.”

“Humph, I almost feel sorry for her. _Almost,_ ” Hermione emphasized as she walked over to her desk and leaned against its edge. “No matter how much love you have for me or I have for you, at the end of the day she still gets to call herself Mrs. Malfoy.”

Draco’s smile was back at that. He removed his hands from his pockets and went into his jacket.

“Not anymore she can’t,” he told her and placed a roll of parchment into Hermione’s hand.

Curiosity rose to its peak at whatever she had been given, not to mention at how happy her lover had suddenly become. With suspicious eyes looking up at him every few seconds, Hermione unrolled the parchment slowly. As she read it took less than five seconds for her hands to begin shaking.

“Draco, what is this?”

Draco let one of his hands cover hers to keep them steady. Even then it was still shaking like mad. “I think you know what it is.”

“It can’t be real,” Hermione choked out. “There’s no way to break the bond. It… It can’t be broken unless-” She paused and suddenly snapped her eyes away from the parchment to his and swallowed deeply. “What happened to her?”

Draco felt uneasy. Hermione had the same horrified expression on her face when she had seen Astoria's body, but he hoped that his next move would calm her.

“I could tell you,” Draco said as he took out his wand again. “Or I can show you. Honestly, it would be a lot easier the second way.”

“Memory sharing,” she deduced. It was a rather unique bit of magic, but she hadn't been very surprised the first time she had learned of his ability. Although not always, someone proficient in either Legilimency or Occlumency could memory share. Excellent control of the mind was the key.

And so Hermione set down the parchment  and let him connect his mind with hers, a shimmery white band connecting each other's heads similar to a memory one would extract to put into a pensieve. Draco had previously gone over everything he wanted to share and so he started with him getting home last night and calling for Hermione's ID. He showed her his and Astoria’s fight, including her murderous plans. Her falling. His panic at what had happened, but _not_ Astoria's sudden wakefulness or his staring. He was still murky on his actions regarding that and his feelings on the entire matter.

He showed her how he had written to her. Her at his house and their conversation afterwards. The Ministry. The Department of Mysteries. The time-turner. And finally him going back in time and redoing the whole night over.

When the memory sharing was done Draco said nothing as he had wanted Hermione to speak first. She was quiet, and it made him anxious.

“...I never once thought that I would use a time-turner again,” Hermione said after a while. “Well, technically I didn't, did I?” She sighed and rolled her thumbs into her temples.

“Do you think I did it purpose?” Draco blurted out.

Hermione let her hands fall and she fully observed the man next to her. The happy man who had ambushed her in the hall this morning, now a complete haggard mess by the anxiety living in his face and apprehension weighing down his body. In a matter of mere seconds, he was reminiscent of the trauma-stricken man from another life.

“No one has that much grief over a murder committed on purpose,” Hermione answered him. “So, no, I don't think you did it on purpose.” She paused a moment and let her gaze drift to the parchment Draco had given her. She turned to him with renewed vigor and gulped. “The bond broke.”

Draco smiled and nodded. “Yes,”

“The bond broke and…” Hermione's hands were shaking again as she finished,  “You're divorced.”

“Yes, I am. And if you watched my memory properly, there was something that I said I would do if the bond, did indeed, break.”

Hermione's heart was erratic as she watched Draco speak and get down to one knee. She knew what was happening. She'd seen him do already and knew that it was coming, but to see him do it now? It was a dream.

“You don't know this, but I was going to ask you to marry me before my parents sprung the arranged marriage on me,” Draco admitted as he pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket. “I had your ring made, and I kept it hidden, locked away in a Gringotts bank, hoping one day that I could give it to you. So, today's the day.”

Tears had sprung to Hermione's eyes, but she batted then away. She wanted to see this clearly. She wanted to make sure that she wasn't going to suddenly wake up and not have him.

“Marry me, Hermione,” Draco finished and there it went. The tears. The onslaught of happy sobbing as she fell to her own knees and threw her arms around him. He laughed. “Is that a yes?”

“Oh, Merlin! Sorry, yes! Yes, I'll marry you.”

The pair was beside themselves as Draco slipped a ring with a large Sapphire stone in the middle surrounded by tiny diamonds. They both set their eyes on it. His ring on her finger. An engagement ring. A promise that they were going to get married. That Hermione would _finally_ be a Malfoy, just as she had always wished.

* * *

Draco spent the entire day in Hermione's office. They spent very little of it working, but preferring to discuss next steps. Hermione going through with her divorce, Draco breaking the news to Astoria that they were no longer married (for he had put a Lip-Locker Locker Curse on Lester so that he could tell no one), and just the overall backlash that was an absolute certainty.

“We could go away,” Draco had suggested. “Leave here for a while and come back in a year or two. Or never,” he shrugged. “I honestly don't care so long as you're with me.”

Hermione's heart had swelled at that. But despite agreeing that yes, leaving did have appealing qualities, she didn't want to. Circumstances weren't ideal, no, but she wasn't going to hide or be forced away. Draco loved her for that. His brave little witch. However, she did say one thing that bothered him, but Hermione had stuck her ground.

“I'm wearing this on my right hand for now,” she had told him in reference to her engagement ring. “Ron and I are still legally married. You waited until your divorce to propose, let me wait until mine to wear it appropriately.”

It had hit a sore spot, if Draco was being honest. So was her admission that she would have to work on her husband’s time where the divorce was concerned, despite how quickly she would try to move things along. “Stubborn and in pain,” was what Hermione had described him as, but Draco (regrettably) understood. Regardless of his feelings on the matter,  steps in the right direction had been made. Hermione had said yes to marrying him, and they _finally_ were on their way to being happy.

So Hermione had told him, she was staying at a hotel. Draco had promised to meet her there after he told Astoria about the divorce. He would even upgrade them to a suite because, no, there would be no reason for him to return to the mansion. There was nothing there that he wanted. Nothing that he needed. What were clothes or knickknacks that he could easily buy anew? Hermione was, and always had been, all that he needed or wanted.

“Astoria?” Draco called one he had arrived home. He got no reply nor did he hear any movement. “Astoria?”

Draco hated playing fetch, but after some leg work going through room after room to find the witch he eventually did.

“Didn't you hear me calling you?” He questioned after finding her in their library, which was honestly just a large room with many bookshelves.

Astoria had been sitting in the corner of the room and reading. She looked up from her book briefly before huffing.

“Oh no, I heard you,” she replied airily. “But I figured you had gone mad to be calling for _me_ of all people.”

“Under normal circumstances I would be,” Draco agreed. “However, I actually do need your attention.”

Another huff.

“Do you?”

“We have something urgent to discuss.”

This time Astoria set her book down. “Did someone die?”

Technically, yes, but Draco didn't say so. Instead he walked over to her and pulled out, not the divorce papers (not yet anyway), but the contract that had previously bonded them. It was still old and frail looking, but a charm he had placed on it would keep it from crumbling to the touch.

Astoria took what he was offering her before she truly knew what it was. When she did, her eyes enlarged much like Hermione's.

“What sort of trick is this?”

“No trick,” Draco shook his head. “Looks like the bond can, indeed, be broken. And this,” he hand her the divorce papers this time. A copy of three, the others dispersed about for safe keeping and the original filed away with the Ministry's Department of Marriage and Divorces. “This makes it official. There was no need for you to sign it concerning the arbitrariness that was our marriage, so only Lester’s signature and my own were needed to make it legally correct.”

“... And under what grounds?”

“Lovelessness and irreconcilable differences,”

Astoria let her fingers, numb with the news, run over the smooth parchment that had effectively severed her future with a pair of brunette scissors.

“How did you break it?”

“Complicated magic,” Draco lied. Astoria narrowed her eyes at him and rose from her seat, letting the papers and her book fall to the floor.

“No,” she shook her head. “You don't come to me with an unbreakable contact _broken_ and a set of divorce papers without telling me how.”

“You could ask me a thousand times over and I still wouldn't tell you. It wouldn't change the fact that the bond is broken. That I can finally-”

“What? Throw away a perfectly good pureblood witch for some homewrecking mudblood?”

Draco clenched his jaw, but he wouldn't lash out. Her death had been the result the last time and he was _not_ in the mood for a repeat performance. Instead he took a calm, deep breath before replying,

“There was never anything ‘good’ about you. If anything you were a selfish woman who cared nothing for the fact that I was, and still am, in love with someone else.” Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You deserve someone who _actually_ loves you.”

Astoria tutted and hissed in a venomous tone, “If you think any of this is about love then you are sorely mistaken. Love in a pureblood marriage is a cherry on top. But as for what it _really_ is? It's prestige, Draco. It's wealth, it's power, it's everything that you took away from me when you broke the bloody contract! You've ruined my life! A life that I've been fantasizing about since I was sixteen!”

Astoria was red in the face, her body shaking with rage. Draco took a step back, slowly shaking his head at this volatile woman.

“Astoria,” he said gently. “Calm down.”

“I will _not_ calm down!” Astoria shouted. She suddenly whipped out her wand and aimed it at Draco. “Because at the end of the day, I’d rather see you dead than giving that witch what she doesn't deserve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! That contract wasn't the only thing to "break" in this chapter. And no, not sorry about the cliff hanger lol.
> 
> -WP


	8. The Only Option

Hermione had unpacked her trunk last night, but she repacked it after work. Draco had told her that he would be getting them a better room. No, a “homier” room. Just because they were throwing themselves out of their houses it didn’t mean that they had to live uncomfortably. It would be perfect until they could “move into a place of their own.”

As she sat at the edge of her bed, twirling her new ring around her finger. There was no denying that things were moving quickly. Just the other day she was in love with Ron and they were living a good life. Now she remembered what true, unadulterated love was, and she never wanted to be without it again.

Ron hated her. Ginny, too, she imagined. Harry was...confused by her, but ultimately still her friend. Only Merlin knew what the Weasleys must be like at this moment. Hermione doubted that she could ever face them again. The media was going to throw a frenzy. Will she (or Draco for that matter) have a moment’s peace?

Hermione groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Maybe we really  _ should _ go away for a while.”

A knock on her door roused her from all thoughts of running away and Hermione shot up from the bed to answer it. She didn’t even look through the peephole, swinging the door open and expecting it to be Draco, but frowning immediately when she saw that it wasn’t.

Harry noticed and rocked anxiously back on his heels. “Can I come in?”

Hermione swallowed deeply before nodding and stepping aside to let him enter. “You know,” she closed the door, “I told you where I was to be polite and because you’re my friend. I didn’t think that you’d actually come to see me at all.”

Harry shrugged as he paused his steps in the middle of the room and turned to face her. “It’s like you said. We’re friends.  Just because I’m mad at you it doesn’t diminish my level of care.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled. She hugged herself and took a deep breath. The awkward was settling in. Her standing three feet away, him with his hands in his pockets and looking everywhere  _ but _ her. She decided to take the plunge. “Did you want something?”

Harry finally looked at her. “The first thing Ginny asked me when I got home from work today was if I talked to you. She wants me to talk some sense into you.”

“I’m not staying married to Ron,” Hermione answered without hesitation. Harry nodded.

“I know that. If was married to someone else and Ginny, the  _ one _ person I can’t see myself without, came back into my life, I’d want to get out of my marriage too.”

In that moment Hermione went slackjawed. Her arms, still encasing her body, fell to their sides. “How can you say that? You scolded me like a child when I told you about Draco-”

“For cheating,” Harry cut her off. “I was - _ I am _ furious with you because you cheated on Ron. Because you weren’t woman enough to tell him from the start how you felt and you ended up hurting him more than he would’ve been if you’d just been honest. He deserves more than the hand you dealt him.”

Hermione nodded, her eyes feeling wet from the brutal truth, but still she understood. “I know. You’re absolutely right. That’s why I told Draco that I couldn’t wear this the way that he wants me to. Not yet.”

The “this” she was referring to was a ring. She had walked closer to him and raised her right hand.  It took Harry a whole five seconds to realize that it was an engagement ring. It wasn’t the one that Ron had given her either. He knew because he had played an integral part in picking out her engagement ring with Ron. Not to mention that anyone with half a brain would realize that this new ring on her hand was different. Aside from the fact that the gemstone was for her birth month, it was considerably bigger.

“Malfoy gave that to you?” Harry choked out. Although it was a question he very well knew the answer to, he still wanted to hear it from her.

“Yes,”

“Why? He can’t even marry you. He-”

“Filed for a divorce this morning,” Hermione finished. She watched as Harry’s jaw loosened just like hers had and she knew why. He was one of the very few (he, Ron, and Ginny, to be precise) to know the reason why she and Draco had been forced apart. And he also knew that for Draco to have gotten divorce papers, he had done the impossible.

“How?”

Images of Draco’s shared memories filled Hermione’s mind. The picture of Astoria, mangled and blood pooling around her, lingered in the forefront of her thoughts the longest.

“Complicated magic,” she answered dishonestly. “He...had been trying for years to find a way to break the bond. It finally worked.”

Harry frowned. “Ron’s going to fall apart.”

“Hence the waiting,” Hermione sighed. “Ron’s been hurt enough, and I’m going to work on his time now.”

“And Malfoy’s okay with that?” Harry questioned with a cocked brow. Hermione chuckled.

“Of course not,” she smiled. “But he’ll deal with it because it’s what I want.”

Harry smiled back, albeit grimly and forced. “Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Hermione nodded for there was nothing else for her to say to that. The quiet drifted in again. She took this moment to look at the clock hanging in the room and the corners of her mouth tugged downwards.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing just…” Hermione turned to Harry and absentmindedly began playing with her ring again. “Draco should’ve been here by now.”

Far be it from Harry to worry about Draco Malfoy ( _ especially _ considering the circumstances), he still humored his best friend because she looked wracked with concern.

“Late day at the Ministry probably.”

“No,” she shook her head. “He would’ve written me and told me. Something’s wrong.”

“Hermione, come on,” Harry encouraged. “Malfoy’s a grown man. What danger could he possibly be in right now?”

Hermione thought of the witch who was aiming to kill (not hurt) her, and the fact that this same woman was currently being told that an unbreakable bond had been broken and that she was being divorced.

Harry instantly furrowed his brow when he saw Hermione fish for her wand out of her bag and head towards the front door.

“Hermione? What are you doing?”

She paused and exposed more than just concern for the love of her life, but also fear. “If I don’t come back in fifteen minutes, send Aurors to Draco’s house. It’s in Frodsham. Can you do that?”

Alarmed, Harry adopted full Auror mode and immediately began an inquiry. “Why? What exactly is happening at that house?”

“I don’t know,” she answered shakily. “But something's telling me that it's nothing good. Fifteen minutes, alright?”

Hermione left the hotel room before see could see Harry's nod and hurried down the hall. She couldn't apparate inside the hotel, but once she was beyond its doors she was gone.

* * *

_ “I’d rather see you dead than giving that witch what she doesn't deserve.” _

As much as Draco regretted giving Astoria any sort of credit, she was a gifted witch. She was proficient in nonverbal spells courtesy of private lessons during the summer months as a child. She had excellent aim. She was also well-versed in the Dark Arts like he was.

As her wand move Draco dodged out of the way and looked in horror to his left as a vase disintegrated to ash. He pulled out his own wand, thinking of ways to get out of this mess without repeating history.

“Astoria,” he gulped. “You don’t want to kill me.”

“Don’t presume to know what I do or don’t want,” Astoria hissed. She aimed yet again and Draco blocked it, finding the curse redirecting to the other vase to his right. That one began burning from the inside out.

“Do you know what it's like to have your life completely derailed?” Astoria continued. “To have everything ripped out from under you in the blink of an eye?”

Draco's wand faltered for just a moment when he sadly replied, “Yes.”

Astoria, too, paused for a moment, perhaps recognizing for the first time grief in her husband that she had been dutifully ignoring these past five years. However, she didn’t linger for long. She let her eyes travel just pass her husband and scowled horribly.

“I guess we've all had our fair share of disappointment. Now that Mrs. Weasley’s joined us, let's see which of you will be disappointed the most.”

Draco didn’t know where Hermione came from, but she had hurried into the room with her wand drawn and aimed it at Astoria.

“Incarcerous!”

Astoria sidestepped the spell, but she couldn’t get away that easy. She found herself blocking more than anything else, combating against both Draco’s and that bitch’s spells. It was...comical almost, and painful, this physical representation of her life. Two people who had been against her from the beginning against her now, backing her into a corner until she could no longer move, and then, finally, being disarmed and her hand empty of her weapon. She refused to shake, not from fear, but from anger. Instead she eyed the pair whom she hated most and said,

“Going to kill me now?”

Draco side-glanced at Hermione, his and her wands raised together and locking in on Astoria. “Hermione wouldn’t, but  _ I _ could.”

“Draco,” Hermione warned, but he wasn’t listening. His hold tightened on his wand as he sneered viciously.

“You planned to kill her,” he continued. “What was it again? A poisonous quill? Perfume? So meticulous and evil, the things you had planned to do.” Astoria couldn’t hide her surprise. She hadn’t told him this, but he knew because she had said it in the life before. Draco took a step towards her. “And then you tried to kill me. To kill  _ us. _ ” Another step taken, and Draco’s wand was touching her now, the tip just grazing her throat. He could hear Hermione behind him, telling him to back off, but he had had enough. “Give me  _ one _ reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

Astoria eyed the wand poking her in the chest. She could feel it, not the wand, but how much he wanted to do it. The only reason he hadn't was because of  _ her.  _ It was amazing, really, how that woman could control him so.

And so, to answer his question, Astoria said plainly, “I don't have one.”

A fight wasn’t always about skill. Sometimes the tiniest action could make way for bigger and better ones. And so, Astoria stomped on Draco’s foot. It allowed for just enough loss of concentration for her to snatch his wand away and aim it at Hermione.

“Avada Ked-!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

Two jets of green hit Astoria in the chest. The witch crumbled to the ground. Her killers both looked at each other, one with far more surprise than the other.

Draco swallowed, standing afar off and holding Astoria's wand that fallen to the floor after she'd been disarmed. “I know why I did it, but why did you?”

Hermione looked back at Astoria’s lifeless form as she replied, “Nothing can block the Killing Curse. Anything else I threw at her wouldn’t have worked. It was my only option.” Her gaze returned to him. “Why did you?”

“She was going to kill you. Do I need another reason other than that?”

Hermione didn't have time to think or reply. There was a loud  _ bang!  _ from downstairs that instantly put Draco on high alert. Hermione, on the other hand, calmed him.

“It's just Harry and the calvary,” she told him as she dropped her wand. “I didn't know what I'd find when I got here.”

“What are you doing?” Draco asked. Not only had she let her wand fall to the floor, but her hands were also up in the air.

“We just killed a woman, self-defense or not.” Hermione took a deep breath and kept her eyes on the door. “We're about to get arrested.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand she's dead! Again. Lol. A shorty chapter, but I liked where it ended. Now, as for the story as a whole, this might actually be the first time where I'm not a liar and when I say it's going to be short, I mean it. I'm going to take a shot and say...4 or 5 more chapters. Maybe even less.
> 
> Until then!
> 
> -WP


	9. Pathological

“Harry?”

He didn’t answer. Ginny furrowed her brow as her husband walked right by her and headed straight for the kitchen. She followed and was instantly taken aback at seeing him take a long, hard swallow straight from a bottle of firewhiskey.

“Harry, what’s wrong? You went to see Hermione forever ago and now you’re here downing liquor. Pace yourself!”

Harry set the bottle down on the table when his throat felt raw from the burning. He’d be feeling the effects of this quickly, but he didn’t care. Right now he needed to be drunk. He needed to be numb and to forget the past two and a half hours. It was all too surreal.

“Harry?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Ginny’s hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath and slipped his glasses off so that he could massage the bridge of his nose and temples.

“Hermione and Malfoy were arrested tonight. They… They killed Malfoy’s wife.”

“ _ WHAT?! _ ” Ginny shouted. “How?!  _ Why?! _ ”

“Killing Curse,” Harry answered numbly. “They claim self-defense.”

“Self-defense?” Ginny repeated. “Does that mean to say that  _ she  _ was trying to kill  _ them? _ ”

Harry nodded. Ginny cursed and took the bottle that had been previously at her husband’s lips and finished what he’d left behind. When she set it down she just shook her head in disbelief.

“She found out about them, didn’t she? About the cheating?”

“Yes. And something else too.” Harry paused and pulled another firewhiskey bottle from the cupboard and gestured for her to take a seat. “You’ll want to sit  _ and _ drink for this.”

* * *

 

Forget about Hermione’s divorce. Being brought into the Ministry bound by the wrists with an Auror on either side of her would be front page news by the next morning. Draco had been brought in just the same and they had been separated into different interrogation rooms once they reached the holding cells. Harry had trailed them both, and his face had held shock and regret from the moment he had burst into the room to find Hermione and Draco with their hands in the air, wands on the floor before them, and Astoria Malfoy’s dead body beyond them. Hermione knew that he hadn’t wanted to arrest them. Well, for Draco he wouldn’t have cared, but for her? It pained him.

Now Hermione sat in a room, nervously jingling her foot and twirling her ring around her finger as she waited for the interrogation to begin. She wasn’t nervous because she had killed someone. Her plea of self-defense was valid. Although she regretted to have to use an Unforgiveable to save her own life, she had no other choice. What made her anxious and worried was about how this would all go considering the circumstances surrounding Astoria’s death. The motives. Motives that the Auror Department would have no issues spinning to fit their own theories so that they could come out with a conviction against her and Draco rather than seeing this unfortunate incident for what it was.

“Mrs. Weasley,” a man who Hermione had never seen before addressed her as he entered the room. “My name is Auror Gillings. I’ll be the one handling the questioning this evening.”

Hermione was confused. “Where's Harry?”

Auror Gillings cocked a brow. “At home,”

“Why? The attending Auror on the scene is always the one who speaks to the witnesses.”

“Ah, yes,” he smiled. He sat down and fixed his tie as he continued, “However, you happen to be a  _ suspect, _ not a witness. And before you tell me that the same rules apply,” he added, seeing Hermione ready to challenge him, “when the attending Auror on the scene is best friends with the suspect a conflict of interest arises, hence the change in protocol. Shall we begin?”

Hermione snapped her mouth shut. She couldn’t argue with him and so she nodded. Auror Gillings took out a notepad and a quicknotes quill and began with his interrogation.

“I spoke with Auror Potter, and he told me that you rushed off in a frenzy. Before we discuss why, can you tell me what you were doing at a hotel instead of home with husband?”

“My husband and I are getting a divorce.”

“Really?” His voice sounded less like an inquiry and more out of shock. Auror Gillings cleared his throat and added, “The general public would say that you two were madly in love. Looks can be deceiving then.”

“I did love him,” Hermione corrected. “But there was a time that I… That I loved Draco first.”

The Auror's eyed bulged. “ _ I'm sorry? _ ”

_ There goes that tone again. _

“You heard what I said. And it's for that reason I decided that I couldn't stay married to Ron. Not when I loved someone else more.”

“Well then,” Auror Gillings mused. “That's…quite commendable of you.”

“Not really,” Hermione frowned, twirling her ring once more. “Not when I've hurt him in the process.” She paused before finishing, “Anyway, that's why I was at the hotel. I'd put myself out of the house and I was waiting for Draco.”

“Yes… I suppose that sheds some light on  why Auror Potter told me that you were waiting for him. He went on to say that you instructed him to send Aurors to the Malfoy residence if you didn't return in a set time. Why?”

“Draco was late. I knew that he was telling his wife that he was divorcing her. Putting those two things together I just knew something was wrong.”

Again, Auror Gillings couldn't mask his surprise. “He's getting a divorce as well?” He stroked his chin and regarded her intently. If Hermione was being honest, it made her uncomfortable. “How interesting… So, your lover is late. You rush off to his house and just charge in, wand first? Why think that offensive maneuvers were necessary?”

“ _ Defensive _ maneuvers,” Hermione clarified. “Astoria Malfoy was a dangerous woman, Auror Gillings. She wanted to kill me.”

Auror Gillings’ brows rose at that and he leaned forward in his seat.

“What makes you say that?”

“Draco told me. She wasn't very fond of me, and while I understand the reason why, murder is a bit extreme.”

“Oh, nothing's extreme when it comes to matters of the heart,” the Auror smiled. “Both you and Mr. Malfoy dropped your marriages at record speed, case and point.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You don't understand.”

“What don't I understand?” He challenged. “Do you mean to tell me that that's  _ not _ what you both did?”

“I'm not denying what we did, but you're undermining the reason why.”

“And what is the reason why?”

“...We were forced apart,” Hermione answered sadly. “Draco’s parents had arranged his marriage to Astoria and it devastated us. If the person you loved the most came back into your life when you were sure that all hope was lost, wouldn’t you do all that you could to have that person again?” 

“Like murder?”

Hermione’s demeanor switched from nostalgic and melancholic to anger in a swift second. She huffed before answering, “You can keep swinging that word around all you like, but that’s  _ not  _ what it was. Now, are you going to ask me questions about why Astoria's dead or not?”

Hostility. Defensiveness. There was something there, Auror Gillings knew it, but he wouldn't go chasing this path just yet. Something told him that he'd have more time with Mrs. Weasley for that.

* * *

 

Draco sat impatiently in a room for nearly a full hour. This was  _ after _ all the spent getting through the Ministry, waiting around while the Aurors figured out what to do as of they'd never arrested sometime for murder before, and then getting chucked into this grey-walled room alone. He grew more agitated by the minute and drummed his fingers along the table. Aurors had to be talking to Hermione first. But for over an hour though?

Draco huffed. His fingers were up in the air when the door finally opened and an Auror came through. He looked up at him and leaned back in his chair.

“About time,” Draco grumbled. Auror Gillings was taken aback by the attitude, but he didn't let it show.

“Apologies,” he replied as he sat down. “However, investigations do tend to take time. I'm Auror Gillings, and before we dive into your wife's death, I want to discuss something else first. It's clear from what Mrs. Weasley told me that Astoria wanted to kill you. The both of you. It's also seems that Astoria wanted to kill Mrs. Weasley first. Why?”

“Astoria...didn't take kindly to competition. That's what she viewed Hermione as. Although, she had no reason to.”

“Oh?”

“You have to be _ in  _ the race for it to be a competition.”

Auror Gillings furrowed his brows and muttered a “hmm” before replying, “And what's that supposed to mean exactly.”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Draco answered nonchalantly. “I didn't love her and she knew it.”

“Ah yes, Mrs. Weasley alluded to this,” Auror Gillings nodded. “You both are involved.”

“Yes,”

“And your wife wanted to kill Mrs. Weasley because of it.”

“Two for two, Mr. Auror.”

“And you didn't tell anyone?” He seriously inquired. “Someone plans to murder your loved one and you would think to inform an Auror.”

“I could handle it.”

“Like tonight?” Auror Gillings offered with a gentle shrug. “Kill your wife before she gets the chance to kill your love? Sounds like a good way to handle it to me.”

Draco gave a hard glare. One that Auror Gillings felt. He watched as the blond smiled a little as a precursor to a harsh chuckle that was none too friendly.

“You're misconstruing the situation,” Draco replied darkly, his gaze not letting up and a snarl to accompany it. “Nothing about tonight was planned although I'm sure that's what you're so sure of.”

“Why shouldn't that be what I think?” Auror Gillings challenged. “A pair of lovers hindered by marriages, one is getting a divorce and the other's spouse gets murdered.”

“Get your facts straight,” Draco snapped. “I filed for divorce today, something I'm sure Hermione told you. I was going about it the  _ right  _ way. It's not my fault that Astoria decided to be a bitch about it.”

Auror Gillings ran a hand through his hair and took a moment to  _ really  _ look at the man sitting across from him. His wife was dead, murdered with his help, and he was just… Well, honestly, he didn't know how to describe him. Angry? A calm sort of angry? Did none of this bother him? Death? The fact that he's being interrogated?  _ Any of it? _

“Let's talk about tonight, Mr. Malfoy,” Auror Gillings continued. “Although not ideal, Mrs. Weasley was correct when she said that the Killing Curse was her only defence. But what about you?”

Draco cocked a brow. “What about me?”

“The way Mrs. Weasley paints it, you were off to the side, out of direct line of fire.”

Draco nodded. “I was.”

“Then why use the Killing Curse? You had an innumerable set of options to take Astoria down, but you chose none of them.”

“You’re an Auror,” Draco said simply. “Surely, you’ve been out on a mission where chaos erupts. Ceilings caving in. Explosions. Debris and curses flying left and right. In an instance like that you have no time to think. You move according to the first thought that pops into your head. You move according to your  _ instincts _ .”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy,” Auror Gillings leaned forward in his seat. “Is your first instinct always to kill?”

The heated glare was back.

“Astoria was moments away from killing the love of my life. I did what I had to, and I have  _ no _ regrets.”

_ Bleeding hell… _

“Mr. Malfoy,” the Auror was pleading now, a hand at his temple as he asked, “You do realize that what you're saying makes you sound completely pathological, don't you?”

“Auror Gillings,  _ you _ do realize that I'm merely being honest, don't you?” Draco taunted with a chuckle at the end. “It's no wonder people lie. You're pathological if you don't.”

“People at the very least are remorseful.”

“The only thing I'm sorry about is that Hermione had to play the role that she did tonight. Can I see her now?”

“Yes, we're done,” Auror Gillings relented. “For now.”

* * *

 

_ Astoria Malfoy: _

_ Murdered! _

_ You've read right, folks. Astoria Malfoy (25) wife of Draco Malfoy (27), was killed in her home last night by not one, but  _ **_two_ ** _ Killing Curses to the chest. _

_ Who would so such a thing, you ask? Was it robbers? Was it enemies of the Malfoy family? The answer may shock you as I reveal that it was Draco Malfoy and  _ **_Hermione Weasley!_ **

_ Yes! Astoria Malfoy's husband, ex-Deatheater, and the former war heroine were the ones to end Mrs. Malfoy's life. The next question on your lips must certainly be  _ **_why?_ ** _ The rumor mill is running rampant this morning and it all swirls around a dizzying and messy love triangle. _

_ While we can make guesses all we like, what we  _ **_do_ ** _ know is that Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Weasley had once been an item (who knew?). This no longer quietly kept affair is what's fueling the rumors that Mrs. Malfoy greatly disliked Mrs. Weasley. Any woman would if she suspected that the reason  _ **_her husband gave her divorce papers_ ** _ was because he wanted to be with someone else. _

_ That, too, you've read correctly. Mr. Malfoy filed for divorce on yesterday, and so other whispers go, Mrs. Weasley is getting a divorce from her husband, the equally famous Ron Weasley, after three years of marriage. And while we can't say for sure, whatever went on behind closed doors sure led to a messy result. _

_ Upon Mrs. Malfoy's death, both Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Weasley were arrested at the scene of the crime by Auror Harry Potter, interrogated, and released, pending further investigation. _

_ As of now, Mrs. Malfoy's death is being viewed as the result of self-defense. _

“They sure found out a lot of information after one night,” Ginny mused as she set the newspaper down. Harry sat across from her, nursing a cold glass of water on his forehead. He had a terrible hangover from last night. Not Ginny, though. There'd only been enough Hangover Potion for one, so he graciously gave it up.

“They’re reporters,” Harry shrugged, immediately regretting it after. “It’s what they do. Unfortunately, they did a good job. Hermione and Malfoy are going to be hounded for weeks to come. Hell, months.”

Ginny frowned. “Harry… Do you really think that it was self-defense?”

“Hermione would  _ never _ outright kill someone. You know that.”

“I know that, and I didn’t mean her,” Ginny clarified. “It’s just that...with Malfoy filing for divorce, proposing to Hermione, and now-”

“ _ He what? _ ”

Both Ginny and Harry looked away from each other and towards the kitchen door. Ron was there, looking as though he hadn't slept, utterly disheveled, and shocked at news that he had just asked to be repeated.

“Ron,” Ginny pleaded, but he merely shook his head.

“Don't make me ask again, Ginny. Did Malfoy  _ really  _ ask Hermione to marry him?”

Ginny took a deep breath and slowly nodded.

“And she said yes?”

Another nod.

Harry bit the inside of his jaw at just how  _ more _ crushed it was for Ron to become. Sadly, it was about to be worse.

“Ron, there's something else,” Harry said as he reached over for the Daily Prophet. Ginny's eyes went wide and her hand stopped him.

“Harry, no,”

“You really think he's not going to find out anyway?”

“Find out  _ what? _ ” Ron asked in an irritated tone. Harry, hangover and all, got up and walked over with the newspaper. He didn't say anything else, but stood by his friend's side as the article was read.

“You were there,” Ron said after a long lapse in time. He turned his gaze from the newspaper in his hand to Harry and asked, “Did Hermione really-?”

“When I got there Astoria was already dead,” Harry explained. “Both Hermione and Malfoy had their wands dropped and hands in the air.”

Ron didn't say anything. He only stared at the photograph of Hermione in the middle of the page. It obvious when his gaze had moved to Draco judging by his abrupt change in demeanor.

“Two days with the man and already he's turned her life to shit,” Ron mused angrily. “He doesn't deserve her.”

“Ron? Ron, where are you going?” Ginny exclaimed as she watched her brother turn on his heel and leave the kitchen. Both she and Harry followed him, running up the stairs as he did, and ending up in his bedroom.

“Ron?” Ginny and again, her eyes widening when she saw him with his wand in his hand.

“He doesn't deserve her,” Ron repeated. “And I'm going to make sure that he knows it.”

“Ron, stop,” Harry implored. “Think about this before you do something rash. Besides, you don't even know where he is. Are you planning to scour all over England for him?”

“I don't need to. When Hermione and Malfoy started dating I laced his wand with a tracker. Never had to use it until now.”

Harry's mouth dropped. “Are you crazy? That's illegal!”

Ron shrugged. “It was for Hermione's safety. I didn't care.”

“Merlin,” Ginny breathed. “When did you even do that?  _ How? _ ”

Ron smiled at his sister. “Malfoy's not the only sneaky one.”

Before either Ginny or Harry could respond (or stop him for that matter), Ron disapparated from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Ron, what are you going to do?
> 
> -WP


	10. Weak Points

“I think we should run away now,” Hermione grimly joked as she held the Daily Prophet in her hands. Draco frowned as he slipped it from her. He had expected the media to report on it sooner rather than later, however, this was far more in detail than he thought it would be.

“An appetizing idea, however unwise,” Draco replied. “That Auror Gillings is going to be watching us _ very _ closely.”

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. “He can't possibly find anything against us. We were in our very rights to act as we did.”

“Agreed, but Aurors aren't made to think that way. On face value we look like two people who murdered for love.”

“How romantic,” Hermione snorted. She sighed and slouched in her chair. She smiled a bit when she felt Draco's hands on her shoulders, massaging them. She truly needed it. After being let go last night she hadn't slept. Neither had he for that matter. They were both too overwhelmed with what had happened and the consequences sure to follow.

“They'll look into the divorce,” Hermione said after a while. “If Auror Gillings is as good of an Auror as I think he is, he'll go to the Department of Marriage and Divorces and retrieve the divorce papers that you filed.”

“They don't mention anything about my marriage being a blood bond.”

“They mention your solicitor's name, doesn't it? Auror Gillings will go to him. Ask him questions.”

“Probably,” Draco shrugged. “But knowing about the blood bond won't matter. He'll be just as stumped as my solicitor as to how I was able to break it.”

“He'll come to you then,” Hermione continued. She turned around in her chair and faced him. “He'll ask you how you did it. You'll have to give him an answer.”

Draco groaned as he blurted out, “I'll tell him Astoria choked on a Bertie Botts' bean, alright? She died for a moment, but one clap on the back brought her back, and that's when I had an epiphany.”

“Draco!” Hermione frowned deeply. “This is serious for Merlin's sake!”

Draco took a deep breath and hung his head down for a moment before looking at her again. “I'm sorry. I know how serious this is. And when Auror Gillings comes to me asking questions, I'll answer accordingly as will you.  Now, can we  _ please _ just forget about Aurors for a moment and bask in the fact that there's nothing holding us back anymore? Five years of being denied what we want, and we can finally have it. Yes, the circumstances are terrible, but Hermione, I have you now. Please?”

Draco put out his hand and Hermione relented. They weren't in prison. The Auror Department had nothing concrete to hold them on. They were engaged. Maybe it was possible, at least for the moment, to forget the world and indulge in each other.

Hermione was on her feet and in Draco's arms. Perhaps cliché to say, but she felt safe. She took a deep breath to appreciate his scent and enjoyed the feel of his hold and the gentle rubbing on her back. Her lips curled upwards when she felt his lips just below her ear. It was a favorite spot of hers where it tickled just enough to be a pleasurable tingle. His hands slid their way from her back, down her sides, and settled neatly to her bum with a squeeze to accompany it. Hermione kissed him then, fully expecting their exploits to turn passionate and migrate to the bedroom when a sudden blast and the splintering of wood resonated in the room. Hermione screamed as Draco shielded her with his body. When they both looked up to find Ron with his wand outstretched, Hermione’s mouth dropped while Draco’s morphed into a hideous snarl.

“Ron!”

“Get away from him, Hermione,” Ron ordered. He was standing not more than three feet from them, his wand solely trained on Draco. The blond was seething as he continued to guard Hermione with his frame.

“You’ve got a lot of balls, Weasley, demanding such a thing. Not to mention pointing that at me,” Draco said with a narrowing of his eyes. “I’d put it down if I was you.”

“Oh, I’ll put it down,” Ron huffed, tightening the hold on his wand as he spoke. “But not until Hermione comes with me.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Glady.”

The word “dueler” wasn’t something that was associated very much with Ron, but Hermione knew better. Draco didn’t. Ron shot off a spell so fast that it caught Draco off-guard and hit him in the shoulder. He staggered back, accidentally knocking Hermione down in the process. From where she lay on the floor she could see Draco putting a hand to his shoulder and pulling back to reveal a handful of blood. Ron’s next spell was almost out of his mouth, but Draco wasn’t blindsighted a second time. His wand was in his hand and it shielded what was to come and rerouted it to a lamp in the corner that caused the light bulb to burst.

Hermione could imagine the escalation of a vicious fight between the two of them and refused to let it happen. She scrambled from off of the floor, snatching Draco’s wand away from him and aiming it at Ron.

“Expulso!”

Ron was shot into the wall behind him, denting it, and falling awkwardly onto his feet.

“Enough!” Hermione shouted. She summoned Ron’s fallen wand and held it in her free hand before turning to Draco. “Into the bedroom.”

Draco choked. “What?”

“You heard me. Into the bedroom this instant.”

“Yeah,” Ron cosigned with a cocky grin from where he leaned against the wall. “Into the bedroom with your sorry arse.”

“I didn’t ask for your input,” Hermione rounded on him immediately before turning back to Draco. “Please, Draco? Ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Draco’s gaze flickered from his fiancée to Ron just behind her, his triumphant expression still evident even though Hermione had scolded him.

“I’m coming back out  _ in ten minutes, _ ” Draco emphasized. He gave one last sneer in Ron’s direction before stomping off. Hermione only faced Ron when she heard the bedroom door slam and she was furious.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?! Do I have to list the amount of offenses you just committed by attacking Draco the way you did?”

“You could,” Ron shrugged nonchalantly as he got up from the floor. “But I’m sure they’re all lesser offenses than murder.”

Hermione flinched at the word “murder” as she crossed her arms over her chest, both his and Draco’s wands jetting out from her fists. “Figures you would’ve heard about that by now. All of England, too, I imagine.”

“That’s why I came. To get you away from that bastard in the back. He’s thrown your whole life upside down in less than a week. Do you even care?”

“Of course I care,” Hermione argued. “If Aurors don’t believe the truth then I could be in Azkaban before I know it. It’s real and it’s scary, but you can’t make it out to be Draco’s fault.”

“How can you say that it’s not?” Ron argued back. “Honestly, Hermione. Look me in the eye and tell me that your life is better with him in it.”

“It’s...complicated. Life with Draco in it has always been complicated. From Hogwarts, to war, to dating, to being forced apart… Complicated is our motto, difficult our anthem, and heartbreak our story. To ask me if my life is better is a rather unfair question. You’re better off asking me if he’s worth it.”

“Fine then,” Ron swallowed. “Is Malfoy worth it?”

“Yes,”

No hesitation. No stutter. No awkward look, her eyes cast to the ground. Hermione hated that she could be so resolute. So sure of herself. To be secure at the expense of Ron’s insecurity. Nothing could ever make this a winnable situation for them both as tugging either way certainly defeated the other.

“I think I’ll be going now.” Ron held out his hand in her direction. “My wand, please?”

_ Now, _ Hermione hesitated. “Can I trust you with it? You did just barge in here and attacked someone not long ago.”

“Out of the two of us I think I’m the trustworthy one here.”

Hermione struggled with agreeing or disagreeing with that point, but she didn’t want to start another fight. She handed Ron his wand back and he swiftly left. Once he was gone she took a deep breath, running her hands over face in the process. She stood there for Merlin knew how long, but apparently ten minutes were up because Draco’s voice soon filled the quiet.

“Do you remember what I told you when we first started seeing each other?”

Hermione turned around and nodded. “You said that we were a disaster waiting to happen.”

“I was right,” he grimly smiled as he gestured to the mess behind her. Although she could jump on the bandwagon and say yes, she didn’t want to. Instead, she used Draco’s wand to fix what damage she could (the wall and the broken door), and said something else.

“Do you remember what my reply was?”

Here Draco’s smile lost its grimness and he was genuinely amused. “You said you’ve been through plenty disasters. What’s one more?”

“That’s right,” Hermione nodded before making her way over to him. “Come on. Let’s get that shoulder looked at.”

* * *

 

Auror Gillings had never been a fan of puzzles. Jigsaw puzzles, to be precise. Although not a muggleborn or even a half-blood, he had plenty of muggle and muggleborn friends and they all loved jigsaw puzzles for some odd reason. They found it amusing to try to make these tiny puzzle pieces fit. It drove him mad. It was even worse when such a puzzle was one in real life.

The whole Malfoy case was one big red flag. A man’s wife is killed by both himself  _ and _ his lover. Said man has no remorse over it. That same man filed for divorce the very same day. His lover will be getting a divorce in the near future. And Auror Gillings was  _ actually _ supposed to believe that none of this was orchestrated in some way?

And so, Auror Gillings spent his Saturday digging into everything that was Draco Malfoy’s, Hermione Granger’s, and Astoria Malfoy’s lives. Despite the biggest concern being Draco (particularly the cocky, unperturbed manner with which he carried himself), he was far too big of a lock to pick. There would be much better luck talking to someone who would be more apt to speak.

So that’s how Auror Gillings ended up at the Potter residence just after noon. Harry looked neither surprised nor happy to see him there, but didn’t refuse him entry. Not that he could. Harry could very well be arrested for noncompliance and neither Auror wanted that to happen.

“Well?” Harry prodded. “What do you want to ask me.”

Auror Gillings smiled. “Who said that I wanted to speak to  _ you? _ ”

Harry’s brow immediately furrowed. “You’re here for Ginny then?”

Auror Gillings shook his head. “No. As close as you are to Mrs. Weasley, I don’t think either you or your wife would give me what I need.”

“Harry?” Ron’s voice called throughout the house. “Ginny?”

“Him, on the other hand,” Auror Gillings mused happily, “I can use.”

Harry stumbled over his words. “You’re kidding.”

“I never kid about work. Mr. Weasley!” Auror Gillings addressed once the man in question had come into view. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

Ron furrowed his brow. He had just come from a dismal attempt at trying to talk sense into his wife and just wanted to have an early liquid lunch. Anything that would scorch his throat as he drank it down and made him forget this morning’s events.

“Who are you? Harry, who is this?”

“Auror Gillings,” Harry answered reluctantly as he crossed his arms. “He’s heading up the investigation over Astoria Malfoy.”

Ron glanced from his best friend and over to the Auror who was smiling pleasantly despite the business he was supposed to be attending to. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

“Well, considering that your wife had a hand in Astoria Malfoy’s death last night, I just wanted to gather some information about her is all. I had tried you at home, but when I realized you weren’t there I decided to try elsewhere. May we sit?”

Ron gave a look at Harry who returned one that said,  _ “You kind of have to. Sorry.” _ He sucked his teeth then before nodding and leading the way into the living room nearby. Auror Gillings followed. So did Harry as a matter of fact. He stood in the doorway watching the Auror and Ron as they made themselves comfortable on the couch and an armchair respectively. The questioning didn’t start immediately, however.

Auror Gillings cleared his throat before turning to Harry. “I could do with a cup of tea, if you have any?”

Harry kept his disgruntled attitude to himself. Instead he gave a gentle nod of acquiescence before leaving the room.

“I hope the reasoning for my coming wasn’t a surprise to you,” Auror Gillings began. “I’m under the impression that you know what happened last night, but you know what they say about assuming and all that.”

“It’s fine; I already know,” Ron answered him. “It was in the Daily Prophet this morning.”

“Right, right… A bit unbelievable for you I take it? Murder and former war heroine aren’t really two things that go together.”

“I’ve had my fair share of unbelievable in the past few days. This just adds to the mix.”

Auror Gillings nodded and took out a notepad and a Quick Notes Quill. “Do you mind?” He asked Ron, and then continued to lay them out on the coffee table once he’d been given the okay. “The murder ‘adds to the mix’ you say? What’s it adding to, if I can ask that?”

“A lot,” Ron huffed. He tiredly ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Hermione’s leaving me.”

“Ah yes, I had heard something to that effect. But she’s not just leaving you, is she? There’s someone else.”

“Yeah.  _ Malfoy. _ ”

“Mhmm… A bit of a messy web then, yeah? Your wife is leaving you for the man whose wife they both killed. That’s a lot to handle.”

Ron snorted. “Throw in the fact that they’re getting married and yeah, it’s a hell of a lot to handle. She hasn’t even properly divorced me yet for Merlin’s sake!”

Auror Gillings blinked and let his jaw hang open for a moment. “Getting married? Your wife and Draco Malfoy are getting  _ married? _ ”

Ron nodded. “I overheard Harry and my sister talking about it this morning.”

“This morning, you say? How interesting…”

“Tea is ready,” Harry interrupted. “It’s in the kitchen if you want to go in there for it.”

“Thanks,” Auror Gillings said as he retrieved his quill and notepad. “But as luck would have it, I should probably get going. Sorry to make you waste those tea leaves, mate. Walk me out? Oh and,” he turned to Ron and gave him his hand to shake. “Pleasure to speak with you, Mr. Weasley. Here’s my card should there be anything else you might want to say.”

Ron dumbly took the card and Auror Gillings left the living room at Harry’s heels. They were at the front door soon enough, but Harry wasn’t going to let him go that easily.

“That was a low blow, Jeffery,” Harry hissed. “Questioning Ron like that? The man's in a fragile state. He'd say anything that might discredit Hermione.”

“You’re right, and he did.” Auror Gillings was happily sporting a smug expression and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me, did you know that Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy were engaged?”

Harry froze. He could very well deny it, but to be caught in a lie would be far worse than admitting it now. “Yes.”

“When did it happen?”

“...Yesterday,”

“Did it now? Well, in that case I can rightly assume that it didn’t happen  _ after _ Astoria Malfoy was killed. I had seen a ring on Mrs. Weasley’s finger but thought that it was her wedding band from Mr. Weasley, not Mr. Malfoy.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Harry said, panic rising within him, but fighting to keep it from showing on his face. “Regardless, getting engaged before Astoria was killed doesn’t mean that they killed her on purpose. You’re reaching.”

“Perhaps I am,” Auror Gillings shrugged. “But you’ve got to admit that it sure does sweeten the pot a little.” He grinned then before bidding him a final adieu and heading out the door. “See you at work, Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to say it, but darn it Auror Gillings is good at his job.
> 
> -WP


	11. What You Have to Do

Sunday had been quiet. Neither Hermione nor Draco left their hotel, preferring to be in each other's company versus facing the riffraff of reporters who were most definitely waiting to speak to them.

Monday, however, was different. Hermione awoke to an owl pecking on the window, and after letting it in, it dropped a letter at her feet. There was no Ministry seal, but she knew it to be from Kingsley. It was a request to see her that morning before employees started trickling in. She already knew that she didn't want to do this, but she couldn't exactly avoid it.

Hermione left without waking Draco and placed a note explaining where she'd gone on the night table next to him. She had stalled at the door, wondering what sort of reaction she would get from passersby once she had left.

Nothing, as it turned out, because the hall was empty. The lobby of the hotel wasn't as sparse, however. There were people checking in, some checking out, others heading to the buffet, and they all paused in what they were doing to look at her. There were loud whispers and some pointed. Hermione got out of there as quickly as humanly possible.

Hermione made it to the Ministry to an empty atrium. She breathed a sigh of relief at that and headed straight for Kingsley's office. She went in without knocking and he raised his head from his desk.

"You got here quickly."

"You would only write so early if it was important."

Kingsley nodded. "That's true. Sit, please?"

Kingsley gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk and Hermione sat just as he asked. It was at this moment that she was glad he had an enormous working desk. It obscured her shaking leg.

"Do you know what I've been doing over the weekend, Hermione?" Kingsley asked tiredly. "Speaking with Mr. Yama and his associates, trying to untaint their impression of you."

Hermione sighed and dug her thumbs into her temples as she replied, "I suppose it didn't go well."

"That's an understatement. Needless to say, they no longer wish to work with you or Mr. Malfoy. And considering that you both were the only ones they had been interested in working with in the first place, they have severed their ties with us."

Hermione's mouth dropped. "But… But they can't! That project-"

"-will be taken up by the French Ministry in our stead," Kingsley finished bitterly. Hermione fell back into her seat and let her head roll back. She stared at the ceiling, wondering if that, too, would collapse just as everything else around her.

"And," he continued, "because of the investigation regarding Mr. Malfoy's wife, I'll have to suspend you until it's over. The both of you."

There went the ceiling.

Hermione sat up. "Are you planning on telling Draco that yourself or are you letting me do that?"

"I have a meeting with him after you. I sent the owl not more than a few minutes ago."

"Of course."

Silence swept the room. It was choking, really. Especially since every tick of the clock and every squeak of Kingsley's chair as he anxiously rocked it was magnified times ten.

"Hermione," Kingsley frowned. "As your Minister and boss this is something that I have to do, but please know that as your friend this hurts me more than you could possibly understand."

Hermione swallowed and shallowly nodded. "I know, and I don't hold any of this against you. I should have expected this."

" _Nothing_  that has happened in the past few days was expected."

That was Hermione's cue to fidget in her seat. Everyone around her had something to say about the news that had shaken the world, and it wasn't about Astoria's death.

"I hope Mr. Malfoy understands just how much you've given up to have him in your life."

"That's always the first thought, isn't it?" Hermione rhetorically asked. "About what  _I'm_  losing. If  _I've_  made the right decision. If it's worth it. But no one wants to know or seems to care about why I made the decision in the first place. Why  _we_  did. Be honest with me, Kingsley. You'd do everything you could to stop your heart from breaking, wouldn't you?"

"...Not if it hurt other people, no."

"You haven't loved nearly as hard as I have then."

* * *

Kingsley didn't understand. Auror Gillings hadn't understood either when she had asked roughly the same question. No one would, and Hermione was tired of explaining. Nothing she said would justify the situation because every ripple that it caused was one devastation after another. What was going to happen next?

"Mrs. Weasley, good morning!"

A cheerful attitude, yes, but Auror Gillings was the  _last_  person that Hermione wanted to see today, if at all. Regardless, while the lift went down, forward, and backwards towards the atrium it made a momentary stop. That stop, to Hermione's dismay, although not surprise, was the Department of Marriages and Divorces.

Hermione greeted him with a slight nod. "Good morning."

He smiled at her and didn't press anything. He was heading to the atrium as well.  _Fantastic_.

"You're off to an early start," Auror Gillings commented. "Busy day?"

"Not really, no," Hermione replied. "Yours must be, I take it? You came from the Department of Marriages and Divorces. Find anything of interest?" She added in a sneer. Auror Gillings glanced at her from his periphery before fully turning to face her.

"Should I have?"

"I should say not. But with all due respect to my friends who  _are_  Aurors, you people certainly like to reach for the stars when you do an investigation."

Auror Gillings chuckled. "My, you sound like Harry. He told me I was 'reaching' over the weekend."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You spoke to Harry?"

"In passing," he replied. He was facing the front of the lift now, a smug smile on his face. "I spoke to your husband."

"What?" Hermione choked. "Why? He has nothing to do with this."

"No, but he knows you," Auror Gillings said. "And that's a lovely start to my investigation."

_A lovely start?_  For him, yes, it would be, and she and Draco had misjudged his methods. Auror Gillings aimed to go for the weak, and Ron was indeed weak. He was emotionally unstable right now which meant that he could say anything. That, Hermione knew, was a problem.

The lift doors opened and Hermione made sure she was the first one out of there. Unfortunately, she didn't make it far.

"You didn't tell me that you and Mr. Malfoy are getting married," Auror Gillings called at her back.

Hermione turned around abruptly and crossed her arms over her chest. "Is that what you find out from your little chat with Ron?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. So, why didn't you tell me? Ashamed, perhaps? Your actions are a bit wild, don't you think?"

"I'm ashamed of nothing," Hermione said fiercely. "Wild, yes, but done for a cause. Also, you didn't ask, so I didn't tell. Why does it even matter?"

"When a woman is murdered by the very people who are now engaged, it matters a great deal." Auror Gillings took a moment to glance at her hand and then chuckled. "Nice ring. Mr. Malfoy's got taste."

Auror Gillings walked off and Hermione stood there fuming. She was so unsettled that she almost didn't hear the delicate, yet bright voice that had addressed her.

"You're engaged, Hermione?"

Hermione blinked and finally noticed Luna standing in front of her.

"Oh, hi, Luna. Yes. It's...a long story."

"I love long stories. They're the best companion over tea, you know."

Hermione softly smiled. "That's your way of asking me to tea, isn't it?"

"If you're not busy," Luna beamed brightly. "I haven't had breakfast yet and was going to head to the dining hall. But since you're going to join me, perhaps we can go to a little muggle tea place I know. I doubt that you want anyone staring at you."

"Oh," Hermione frowned. She awkwardly rubbed her arm and swallowed. "You've heard then."

"The news is everywhere, I'm afraid. Shall we go for tea now?"

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. Luna hooked her arm with hers and lead the way to one of the many fireplaces so that they could leave together. Luna wasn't wrong. More Ministry workers were coming now and each one's stare, glare, and shake of the head was one more layer of burden. She couldn't have been happier to be outside. Luna told her to hold on tight, and so she did as told and felt the familiar pull of apparation. They didn't go far, but Hermione imagined that they had apparated for the very reason they didn't eat breakfast in the dining hall.

They were seated quickly at a small delicatessen in a booth near the back. Luna must have come there frequently for she was known by name and brought to her "favorite table." Low light, despite time of day. Wood tables with old-fashioned menus and there were some people choosing to eat their meals at the counter off to the left of them. Beyond that and blocked by cabinets the kitchen was there and the chefs could barely be made out as they flipped and fried things.

"So, when's the wedding?"

Hermione tilted her head. "What?"

"The wedding," Luna repeated. "You and Draco are getting married. When are you going to do it?"

"I...we…" Hermione slouched in her seat and was completely puzzled. "Luna, is that all you have to ask or say?"

Luna shrugged. A waitress came over and took their drink orders, and said she would return with them after they had perused the menu. When she was gone, Luna continued. "What else is there to know?"

"Plenty," Hermione anxiously chuckled. "Don't you want to know about Astoria's death? About Ron? About where Draco came from so out of the blue?  _None of it?_ "

"Oh, I don't need you to tell me about any of that," she smiled. "I know you would never kill anyone on purpose. Something bad must have happened for you to do it, nothing more. Ron's probably really upset, but you're happy now. A sad trade off, I must admit. I hope that he finds true love one day."

Again, Hermione's head was off to one side. "What makes you think that I didn't truly love Ron?"

Luna pointed to her ring. "You're getting married."

Hermione could smack herself.  _Of course_  that would be it, wouldn't it? But then Luna said something else that shocked her beyond belief.

"Your smile never reached your eyes when you got married," she said profoundly. She was gazing up at the ceiling, a dreamy expression on her face as though she was remembering. "It's only genuine when it does, and I feel like if it's the happiest day of your life, that's what should happen."

Hermione could only stare at the table then for she didn't know what to say. She had felt happy. Although, if she had to be honest with herself, she wasn't at her happ _iest_. That had only been with Draco, someone who, at the time, she couldn't have.

"What are you thinking, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at Luna and sighed. "All the times when I should've been honest."

"It's never too late to be honest," Luna told her as she patted her hand. "You can't change the past, so there's no point in thinking about it."

The waitress came back with their drinks and asked what they wanted to eat. Seeing as she came here regularly, Luna knew precisely what she wanted. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't, but food was the last thought on her mind. One shouldn't change the past, no, but that didn't mean she couldn't. If it could prevent Astoria's death, Ron's despair, and let her and Draco live out their lives as they were meant to, then it was worth the risk. Wasn't it?

* * *

Auror Gilling's mind was racing. He had spent the rest of his Monday trying to wrap his brain around Draco Malfoy's marriage. He had found it strange that the Department of Marriages and Divorces didn't have their marriage license on file. He had to examine Draco and Astoria's divorce papers in order get more information. It was then that he had begun going down a hole that got bigger and all the more confusing the more he looked.

Lester Walloby was a private solliciter for the Malfoy family. It appeared that he had overseen the divorce between Draco and Astoria and so it stood to reason that he may have overseen their marriage as well.

When Auror Gillings had reached the man's home/office he immediately had known something was off. The man seemed nervous to see him. Of course, anyone who handled Malfoy business should be nervous. This had just seemed in excess.

Auror Gillings had only needed to ask a few questions before a bomb dropped. The first was why Draco had filed for divorce. Lester had directed him to the terms written in the couple's divorce papers. The next was if he had had any hand in the Malfoy marriage. With a barely there hesitance, he had answered yes. When Auror Gillings had asked in what capacity, he said that he had drafted a contract. And when he had asked what kind, Lester became a mute.  _Literally_.

Auror Gillings knew a Lip-Locker Curse when he saw one, but that didn't mean it had been easy to remove. In fact, he couldn't remove it at all. Versions of the curse such as that were complicated and required a lot of skill. Furthermore, only the caster could remove it.

Swearing, Auror Gillings had asked who had put the curse on him. No surprise showed on his face when the man had said Draco's name. Finally, he had asked Lester if there was anything that the Lip-Locker Curse could allow him to say. If not, was there something that he could show that would give further insight into Draco and Astoria's marriage.

That was when the hesitancy came back. Auror Gillings had promised him right then and there that he would come back with a warrant and tear his office and home apart unless he willingly gave up what he knew.

Lester had sighed then. He went to the side of his work desk, took out his wand, and aimed it at the floor. A handle appeared and he pulled it, something akin to a wine holder rose. Instead of wine, however, there had been scrolls. Lester pulled one and handed it to Auror Gillings.

_"A copy of Draco and Astoria's marriage contract," Lester said. "Despite it being intact, only the original held bonding value."_

And that had been the bomb. The words "blood bond marriage" had floated off the parchment to him, but it had only caused more confusion.

_"But...you can't break a blood bond marriage. Can you?"_

_"A blood bond can only work between two living people."_

Those words had haunted Auror Gillings from the moment he left Lester Walloby's office. If he understood Lester's less than cryptic message, a spouse had to die to get out of a blood bond marriage. That would certainly explain why Draco and Hermione had killed Astoria, self-defense be damned. But how was Draco able to successfully file for divorce beforehand?

It was puzzling and headache inducing, and Auror Gillings promised himself that he would spend the entire night at the Ministry trying to wrap his head around this thing. It was the end of the working day now, the atrium virtually empty. It was quiet enough to think. Or at least he thought so until one of the fireplaces activated and Hermione came through.

A  _blood-covered_  Hermione, to be precise.

Auror Gillings had been too far on the other side of the Ministry atrium for her to see him. Or perhaps she had been too frazzled to pay attention? Regardless, she ran clear across to the lifts and frantically pushed a button once inside. Auror Gillings couldn't see what she had pressed from where he was, but he did realize that the lift had gone down. There was only one floor that may have been of importance to her down there: the Department of Mysteries.

And so, he followed her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Luna. She sees things from an outside lens and I think that's why I love her so much. But alas, we've got Auror Gillings and Hermione covered in blood. Until the next chapter then!
> 
> -WP


	12. The Blood

_8 hours earlier_

Hermione and Luna had had a good breakfast. After Luna’s insightful words, the blonde had steered the conversation into less depressing waters. She spoke of her weekend and described a lovely dinner she had had with her father and the hunt for a particular fairy whose dust could cure the common cold. Hermione tried her best to pay attention to her, but she found her thoughts racing. Illegal ones at that.

Everything that had happened these past few days had been one wrong move after another. A poor way of divorcing Astoria. Draco accidentally killing her in an alternate life. Hermione’s lie to Ron. Her cheating. Her...marrying Ron. Hermione was well aware of the risks of using a time-turner, not to mention the risks of using one more than once. However, all she wanted to do was fix all of this. She wanted to get rid of all the pain.

And she would. She just needed to kill time until the Ministry was empty before she headed back to the Department of Mysteries. Hermione would go back further than she had with any time-turner, before Draco was presented with the marriage contract by his parents. She’d tell him that the bond was broken and that he didn’t have to marry Astoria. No, better yet, she’d share her memories with him in a pensieve. Then they could get married without hurting anyone or themselves. It was perfect.

Hermione had gone back to the hotel to find it empty. She found the note that she had left for Draco turned over on the night table with his own writing staring up at her. He was meeting with Kingsley now and Hermione could just imagine how that was going. She only hoped that Draco could rein his temper in. It was bad enough that he was under suspicion for murder. He didn’t need to add assault of the Minister to his list.

To make the time fly faster, Hermione chose to read. Draco would be back at any moment and she was thrilled to share with him their way out of this mess. A little over an hour may have passed by before she heard a knock on her door. She stopped reading, her eyes lifted above the rim of her book and she wondered who would be at her door. It wasn’t Draco, she knew, for he’d have no reason to knock. The last person who had come unannounced had barged through, wand blazing. She _really_ wasn’t in the mood for a repeat performance, and so she closed her book and set it on the coffee table in exchange for her wand. She rose from the couch, wand in hand, and inched towards the mini hallway where the door to the suite was held. Another knock sounded. Hermione took a deep breath and went to the door, putting her eye up to the peephole and taking a deep breath when she realized that it wasn’t Ron. Not that the guest excited her in any way. She was expecting a scolding, in fact.

“Ginny,” Hermione greeted once she had put her wand away in her back pocket and opened the door. Ginny looked like she would rather die than be where she was. The brunette wasn’t surprised.

“Hi Hermione,” Ginny replied hesitantly. “Is Malfoy here?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed cautiously as her hand discretely slipped behind her back so that it could touch the base of her wand. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t come here to see him. Just you.”

“I’m alone.” Hermione let her hand fall to her side as she opened the door wide enough for Ginny to slip through. “I must say that I expected to see you sooner than this.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been sending Harry in my stead,” Ginny chuckled nervously. She was standing in the middle of the living room, just before the coffee table and the couch where Hermione had been sitting. “Does that make me cowardly?”

“It makes you smart. Harry’s the only person who could possibly talk some sense into me. He hasn’t,” Hermione added quickly. Ginny’s ray of hope dimmed rapidly at that, and now the redhead was busily rubbing her hands together. Hermione, too, began engaging in nervous behaviors and slid her hands over her arms. “What did you come here to say that I haven’t heard already?”

“I… I guess there’s nothing _to_ say,” Ginny admitted. “It’s not like you can unbreak my brother’s heart. He still has to live with the fact that you chose someone else over him. I just don’t understand how you can stop loving someone so quickly.”

“You can’t, and that’s what’s been driving every action that’s happened in the last few days. I never stopped loving Draco, Gin.”

“Why did you marry Ron then? Was it because you had no other options?”

Hermione tried not to pause. If she was truthful, yes, Ron had been her only option. Any man that wasn’t Draco would have been her only option. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love Ron in her own way. It was just… It was different.

“I loved him,” Hermione found herself saying, however inadequately she felt while doing so. “I still do, but not enough for me to stay married to him. It would have been worse to live a lie than severing ties. I just wish everything had played out in a way that wouldn’t hurt him so much.”

“Everything hurts when you’re in love,” Ginny spoke wisely. “There's no escaping it.”

Hermione nodded. The awkward drifted in as had been expected as both women stood a few feet apart. Ginny rocked on her heels while Hermione drummed her fingers on her arms.

“I guess I'll just go then,” Ginny announced after those few painful moments. She headed towards the door and Hermione followed to walk her out.

“Ginny, can I ask you something before you go?”

“What is it?”

“Ron came by over the weekend. Well, stormed in was more like it. Only Harry knew where I was. I believe that he told you for you to come here today, but I doubt very much that he would've told Ron. How did he find out?”

Hermione watched as Ginny's face paled. It was a sure sign tell of hers that something was wrong. When the brunette pressed her on the matter, Ginny reluctantly admitted the truth.

“I don't know how, but sometime ago when you two were first together Ron put a tracker on Malfoy's wand.”

“He… _He what?_ That's illegal!”

“I know that. So did he when he did it, but Ron didn't care. He didn't trust Malfoy so he did it to look out for you.”

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “Ron didn't trust that I knew what I was doing. That's a far cry from looking out for me.”

Ginny pursed her lips in a frown before finally leaving. Hermione slammed the door rather than shut it because she was frustrated. She was tired of people thinking that she was incapable of making her own decisions. All she wanted now was for Draco to come back and help her to block out the world because yes, she could honestly say that she was narrow-minded when it came to him.

* * *

 

Averting of the eyes. Stiff movements. A pulsing vein in the neck. Draco wouldn’t say that the Minister was a afraid of him, but he certainly wasn’t feeling very comfortable in his presence. Perhaps it was the hard, unmovable stare that Draco had given him from the moment he had walked into the man’s office.

The meeting had gone as he had expected. It looked as though he and Hermione were off the project with Mr. Yama. Not a surprise. Furthermore, he was suspended until the investigation into his wife’s death was over. Another no-shocker. Quite frankly, after recent events Draco no longer wanted to work at the Ministry anyway. When he and Hermione were exonerated (for there was no solid evidence to prove that they killed Astoria for mischievous purposes), that meant they would be free from legal trouble. However, that didn’t mean other people would think them innocent. He could see it now, branded as the couple who had murdered for love. The couple who had broken the hearts of their lovers. The titles were endless and it was tiresome just thinking about it. He had told Hermione that they shouldn’t run away, yes, but that was during the investigation. Afterwards, however, it would be necessary to leave. Maybe Hermione would like to move to Italy? He had liked it there, and maybe she would too.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

The sour expression on Draco’s face was instantaneous (not that he had tried very hard to control it). Anything Weasley-related was bound to ruin his day. Considering the morning that he had had, this unexpected and unwanted meeting was the perfect little cherry on top.

“Not that my business here has anything to do with you, but I _work_ here,” Draco huffed. Suspended or not, he hadn’t been fired which meant that his comment held validity. To his surprise, however, the redhead was quite astute today and noted how he was leaving the atrium rather than entering it.

“Do you?” Ron questioned. He, too, was leaving the Ministry as he had only come by to chat with Harry. “Where are you off to then?”

“To be with my fiancée,” Draco snapped. He had expected a stronger reaction to that rather than the one Ron had presented: crestfallen. Regardless, it tickled Draco all the same and he continued on his way to one of the fireplaces. His foot had barely crossed the threshold into one when Ron's next set of words threw him off completely.

“Only one of you is getting off, you know.”

Draco faced him. “I beg your pardon?”

“This whole investigation? Everyone favors her. You know that and I know that. Hermione's representative will paint her in the light of an angel. An angel corrupted by bloody Satan.”

Ron spat that last bit, and Draco felt his blood pressure rise in contempt. Ron scoffed as he went to his own fireplace and prepared to leave. “If not a lighter sentence, she'll be let go completely, Malfoy. And when she's free of you, she'll be much better off. It happened once before, so why not again?”

Draco had a sinking feeling in his chest mingled with a calm, yet furious rage. He'd had enough. As Ron got into the fireplace and the sparks of green flames arose Draco stepped in behind him and rode the Floo with him. Ron tumbled out of his fireplace at home, but he felt himself being pulled back by the collar. Draco had grabbed him, thrusting him back onto the brick of the fireplace's mantle.

Pain reverberated across Ron's shoulder blades, but he had no time to catalogue it. Draco was standing before him, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding his wand aimed neatly between Ron's eyes.

“Let's get one thing clear here, Weasley,” Draco snarled. “You have _no_ claim on Hermione. You never did. Did you honestly think at any point in time that you had won her from me?” Draco chuckled briefly before sneering again and continuing in a venomous tone, “She married you out of _convenience_ , mate. She loves me like she’s loved no other or ever will again. Say that she does get off and I don't. She won't stop loving me. You and I both know how that worked out the first time.”

“You twisted her head!”

“I gave her what she wanted and how she wanted. _Me_ , against a bathroom wall and her office floor. Tell me why she wants you again?”

Ron yelled in frustration and in anger and knocked Draco's wand out of his hand with the bulk of his elbow. Marginally distracted, he managed to punch the blond who staggered back and wiped his hand across his nose that had begun to bleed.

“Come on then!” Draco egged him on. “Fight me. It'll give me a reason to-”

“To what?” Ron dared to ask. “Kill me like you did Astoria? Go ahead. It'll land you right in Azkaban where you belong.”

“Not if it's an accident,” Draco smiled. And then he winked.

“Bloody murderer!” Ron shouted as he charged, fist first. Draco ducked and dodged right, and he watched Ron's lower half barrel into the couch, his upper half partly curled over the back.

“Fighting like a muggle,” Draco tutted as he shook his head. He tasted blood in his mouth and licked away the trickle that had descended onto his lip. Draco readied his wand, swishing it in the air for a spell, but Ron was aware of the sound that it made and hurled himself over the rest of the couch and onto the floor. Draco's spell made a gash in the couch rather than the redhead’s back.

“Scared to duel me and lose, Weasley?” Draco taunted. “We never did finish what you started in my and Hermione's hotel room.”

The mere mention of Hermione's name lit a fire in Ron. He jumped up on his feet, turning around and quickly shooting off a nonverbal spell that Draco deflected. It burned a hole through the wall. Draco growled at that and decided that if that was how he wanted to play, then it was all fine by him.

Red-orange for the burned edges of the hole in the wall, red-orange for his hair, Draco was all giddy inside when his next spell was a nonverbal _Incendio_ and Ron threw himself to base of the stairs behind him as the flames enveloped the railing. Ron parted the smoke and flames with his wand and ran upstairs, narrowly missing yet another spell from the wizard.

Draco ran after him. His feet had just made it to the landing before the staircase behind him became a slide. The blond narrowed his eyes and tightened his wand as he tried to figure out where the redhead was hiding.

“You look nervous, Malfoy,” Ron’s voice appeared in his ear. Draco shifted left, a curse on his lips, but no one was there. He scowled.

“What for?” Draco scoffed. He took a tentative step forward, keeping an eye on all open doors down the hallway. “I'm fighting a man who'd rather throw his voice than face me.” Draco took another step, and just up ahead he squinted his eyes when he thought he saw movement in an otherwise empty hall.

Draco smiled. “Expulso!”

Ron grunted as the spell collided with his camouflaged body. His spell wore off as he was expelled backwards into a tall cabinet and fell down to the floor in the midst of broken wood. His wand was gone, he knew. His vision was fuzzy and the more he shook his head the closer Draco came to him.

“I could kill you, Weasley,” Draco said calmly. He was kneeling in front of him, jaws clenched as he calculated his options. “You're the one person I wouldn't mind doing in.”

“Do it then,” Ron goaded, but Draco shook his head.

“Too incriminating of a scene I'm afraid. Don't worry though. There's still plenty of time for you to fall down the stairs, succumb to poison, etcetera. I'll get creative.”

Ron's vision had cleared up enough for him to see Draco's smug face and it angered him. He picked up the first thing his hand laid on and swung it into him. It was an awkward hit, but a hit nonetheless. Draco had been knocked over to the side and Ron scrambled to his feet, sure that the blond would come at him once he had recovered.

He didn't.

“Get up, Malfoy. I didn't hit you that hard.”

Ron kicked him in the foot. Nothing. He kicked Draco harder the second time and still, nothing. Ron's anger bled away as he saw something dark red free-flowing from the man's neck. He inched over to Draco who lay on his side, eyes wide open, seeming to try to breathe, but having difficulty doing so. It was only as Ron got closer that he realized there was a puncture in his neck. A major artery so it seemed. Ron located what he had hit him with and saw a long, rusty nail protruding out of it.

It was bloody.

“No,” Ron breathed. He looked down at the clearly dying man, a pool of blood encircling his head like a Halo only the devil would wear. “No,” he said again, his entire life speeding before his eyes as he fully came to realize what had just happened.

_“Draco? Ron?”_

Ron's head snapped in the direction of his wife’s voice. He stood rigid as though he'd been _Petrified._ His heart was hammering. Veins pulsing. Throat dry. Chest pains. All of that culminated into utter dread as he heard the stairs re-transfigure from a slide and Hermione's careful steps climb up.

Her wand had been drawn, but it fell with a one-two patter once she had reached the landing.

“ _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me! If there's one thing for certain in this story, everyone stands a chance of getting axed 0_0
> 
> -WP


	13. A Botched Fix

Another hour had passed after Ginny had left and Draco had yet to return. In a world where everything had been going wrong lately, Hermione's paranoia was increasing. She bit her lip furiously as she tried to read, but nothing was sinking in. She ended up giving up and letting her eyes trail to her wand sitting next to her. Draco's meeting wouldn't have been long, and she didn't know where he could be right now. A tracking spell on someone's wand could be initiated by anyone despite the caster. Although Hermione was beyond infuriated that Ron had done that to Draco's Hawthorne, at this point in time she was grateful.

Hermione picked up her wand and held it in the palm of her left hand. The tracking method was similar to a Compass Spell, and so she took a deep breath and said, "Point me to Draco Malfoy."

While similar in nature, a tracking spell gave the exact address of the wand belonging to the person you were looking for. As Hermione's wand spun, stopped, and a puff of smoke erupted above it, her heart stopped.  _Everything_  stopped.

What was Draco doing at the house that, up until recently, she had shared with Ron?

If that wasn't enough to elicit her worry, nothing would. Hermione prepared herself for what she might find, say, or do, and disapparated straight from her hotel room and to the house. Once there, her anxiety wasn't eased in the slightest. There was an enormous gash in the couch. The staircase railing was also singed black, the was a hole in the wall, and she could smell remnants of the fire.

Hermione took a deep breath and tentatively called out, "Draco? Ron?"

She heard nothing in return and went to the staircase. Her brows furrowed when she found it turned into a side and she re-transfigured it so that she could take one careful step at a time. Even then,  _nothing_  could have prepared her for what she saw.

Her wand fell from her fingers and her chest sank into her stomach. There was Draco, on the ground, a pool of blood similar to his wife's encircling him. Hermione let her gaze travel to Ron and she bellowed, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Ron flinched at her screech as Hermione ran forward to Draco's body. She shook where she stood, seemingly not sure what she should be doing as her eyes darted about. Eventually she dropped to her knees, not caring about the blood, and carefully pulled Draco's upper half onto her lap. She felt for a pulse on his neck although she knew there wouldn't be one, the gaping hole from where the blood had been flowing plainly visible. After an agonizing set of seconds she shuddered violently as tears streamed down her cheeks and then raised a blood-stained hand to close Draco's eyes.

"Hermione, I… I didn't mean to."

Hermione had forgotten where she was and who was standing beside her. She slowly turned her head up at the man who had uttered words so horrible to her ears that it made bile fly to her throat.

"You didn't mean to? Have you seen the house?! It's destroyed! It's obvious that you and Draco were dueling for a pretty long fucking time, Ron. You wanted to hurt each other. To… To kill each other…" Hermione sniffled and let her eyes fall back to her dead fiancé. "Oh, Draco, why were you even here?"

"He followed me."

Hermione turned back to Ron. "What?"

"He followed me through the fireplace at the Ministry."

"Why?"

"How should I know?"

"Because I know Draco and I know  _you._ He wouldn't have followed you without a reason. What did you do to him? What did you say?"

"I didn't do or say anything!"

"Don't lie!"

"Hermione-"

"Don't lie, damn it! You owe me!"

"I owe you  _nothing!_ " Ron shouted. Bellowed was more like it, and Hermione instinctively pulled and held Draco's body closer to her although he could do nothing for her. "You want to know what I said to Malfoy? I told him the truth. I told him that at the end of this shitty mess that you were going to walk free and that he'd end up in Azkaban where he belongs. And once there? You'd finally come to your senses. It's not my fault he got all pissy about it and followed me."

Hermione's mouth fell open. Her bottom lip trembled and she closed her eyes as a heavier weight than she'd already been carrying nestled in her chest. "Yes, it is," she said in whisper loud enough to be heard. "You antagonized him, and everything that happened here is entirely your fault." She paused for a moment, allowing herself to brush back the side of Draco's hair that wasn't matted down with blood. "But it's okay. I'm going to fix it."

"What?" Ron questioned with a furrowed brow. "Fix what? Hermione he's dead."

"I know that!" She snapped viciously. "It doesn't matter. I'm still going to fix it. The only thing that I regret is that at the end of this you'll get to live a conscience-free life that you don't deserve."

Ron stared at his wife in utter bemusement, convinced that she had lost it. Hermione continued to whisper to both herself and Draco's dead form about how she'd fix it and that everything was going to be fine. Soon after that she was finally pushing Draco off of her and laying him gently back onto the floor. Hermione was on her feet now, covered in blood, an odd calm having overtaken her despite the situation. It scared Ron more than he could possibly describe, and he kept his gaze on her as she headed down the hall, scooping up her wand along the way, and leaving without a word.

* * *

Hermione was very aware of the copious amount of blood on her clothes and hands, but she found herself incapable of spelling it away. Could magic even remove such a deep stain?

Hermione had made it downstairs of the house, but stood for several minutes before going anywhere. The Ministry would be too crowded now to go to the Department of Mysteries, not to mention that she would attract dozens of eyes in her current state. Going anywhere would have done that really. In the end she had cast a spell on herself to blend into her surroundings and disapparated to an alleyway nearby to the Ministry. It was there that she waited. She watched people go to and fro, some entering the Ministry, some leaving, others not going there at all. It was in this watchful state that Hermione had come to a conclusion about life: it cared nothing about you. Here today, gone tomorrow, and the world kept ticking.

There was a bell tower nearby and Hermione listened to its gongs and counted until  _8pm_. It was long after the end of the working day and she knew it would be safe. And so, she ran. She made her way to the wizarding entrance of the Ministry and flushed herself down, exiting from a fireplace in green flames. She paid no never mind to the vast atrium and hightailed it to the lifts. It didn't take long for one to come but it felt like an eternity for it to make it to the Department of Mysteries. The lift had barely touched down and its doors opened before Hermione threw herself out of it.

Down the corridor that twisted this way and that, Hermione made it to the door of the room that held her salvation. She performed quick movements with her wand and the door opened for her. She stood in the middle of the room filled with gadgets galore and it both unnerved and fascinated her that she had been here once before, but in a timeline that no longer existed.

It took a moment or two to find what Hermione needed, but when she did her heart gave a flutter of relief. She nearly tripped over herself to make it to the time-turner, but soon it was in her hands. She'd go back far enough to remedy this hell for everyone. It was perfect. It was fail-proof. It was-

"Put it down, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione turned to find Auror Gillings near the entrance with his wand aimed at her. She raised her hands in the air to show that she wasn't hostile, but the time-turner stayed clutched between her fingers.

"What are you doing here?"

"Saw you run in," he explained, "and I followed you. Now, put the time-turner down."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Not if you're going to keep your wand trained on me and we both know that you will."

Auror Gillings swallowed deeply because he knew that she was right. Neither person moved and instead they analyzed each other.

"Why are you covered in blood?"

"...Draco's dead."

The Auror's wand faltered for just a moment at that, but he kept it steady nonetheless. "He's what?"

"I think you know what 'dead' means," Hermione snapped. "Ron killed him."

"Why would he do that?"

" _Why?_ " Hermione gave a short, loud laugh that ricocheted off the walls and sneered hideously all the while still fingering the time-turner in her possession. "Some Auror you are," she huffed. "You can so easily string erroneous facts about Draco and me concerning Astoria's death, but you can't fix the simple image of Ron's rage and jealousy together?"

"Oh, I can put those pieces together just fine," Auror Gillings replied, taking a careful and subtle step forward, "but you're the one who's coated in blood. I'll ask you again, Mrs. Weasley. Put down the time-turner."

"You're not asking me, you're telling me, and no. I need this. I have to fix what happened. It's the only way to bring him back."

Auror Gillings let his eyes briefly stare at her hands. Anyone else would think that she was holding a sack full of galleons instead of a time-turner. The longer he stared, the more he wondered, and he decided to dangle the hook.

"I found out something interesting today. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's marriage was a blood bond." He paused, waiting for some kind of reaction from the brunette, but there was nothing but a clench of her teeth. "Do you know how you break one? One of the spouses have to die."

"If you're planning on making a point, Auror, I suggest that you make it quickly."

"Fine. The timeline of Mr. Malfoy's divorce and his wife's death doesn't make sense. Finding you here with a time-turner, something that  _no one_  is supposed to know that we have? I think Mrs. Malfoy somehow died before and that's how the divorce was possible."

"Well, ten points to whatever House you were in for coming up with such a conclusion," Hermione snidely replied. "However, you and I both know that will never stand up before the Wizengamot."

"I have to try."

"So do I."

Hermione feigned a throw in Auror Gillings' direction and he instinctively put up a shield charm. That gave Hermione just enough time to whip out her wand from her back pocket and aim it.

"Depulso!" She shouted and immediately turned her attention to the time-turner. Hermione hastily slipped it onto her finger and pressed the gem in the middle. "March 23rd, 2-" Her words never finished as she felt the wind get knocked out of her.

Auror Gillings had recovered from her spell quickly and Hermione went sliding across the floor. She was careened into a shelf, and she shielded her face as random objects fell from their positions and shattered around her. It was in the midst of this downpour that she felt a rough grip on her wrist and her heart fell.

"No! Stop!" Hermione screamed, but Auror Gillings was wrestling the ring from off her of her finger. There was a deep seat of dread settled in her stomach when her finger felt empty and her objections turned into wild kicks and flailing arms, anything to make him get off of her. Auror Gillings was losing his grip, and he certainly did so when Hermione's nails managed to scratch his face.

Hermione couldn't have been happier to hear him cry out. A punch to his face made it even better and she crawled over him and broken experiments, feeling her own blood stream out of her as she welcomed the puncture wounds. From hands and knees, she attempted to get on her feet when she crashed to the floor, Auror Gillings straddling her from the back and the tip of his wand jamming into her neck.

"Any more movement from you and I  _will_  hurt you," he warned. Hermione's deep breathing was the only thing she could hear aside from his words and she was tempted. Yes, she was tempted to defy him because time was irrelevant. And so what if her attempts at subduing him didn't work and he did, in fact, hurt her? At this point Hermione would gladly welcome death because if she didn't have Draco, what else was there?

With a silent sob, she closed her eyes, and salty tears trekked down to the corners of her mouth. "None of this has to happen, you know," she cried. "Just one date and time, and everything will be right again. No one will ever know what happened but me. What's wrong with that?"

"Because you know as well as I do that time isn't something you just tinker with when things don't go your way. You're under arrest, Mrs. Weasley, for the suspicion of murder and for time-tampering."

* * *

An Auror's work was often an "On Call" kind of job. Sure there were working hours, but most misdeeds tended to happen at a time when people should be sleeping or just getting to bed. Harry had been partaking in the latter when a Ministry owl had flown through his and Ginny's window. He had been anxious as of late to see an owl as they had been associated with bad news recently and tonight had been no different.

The letter Harry had received came from Auror Gillings, and that was enough to set him on edge. The briefing that he had just sat in on had fully pushed him over, and now he was in the men's loo upchucking everything he had eaten for dinner that night.

Draco Malfoy was dead. Hermione was in a holding cell after having been found in the Department of Mysteries, covered in blood, and clutching a time-turner with the intent to use it. To top it all off, she had accused Ron of murdering Draco, meaning that there was now a warrant out for the redhead's arrest. It was just...too much.

"You alright there, Harry?"

Harry turned to the voice of one of his fellow Aurors. It was a stupid question to ask considering who this case involved, but he nodded anyway and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Let's get this over with."

The "this" was a search of the Weasley residence where Draco's body was supposed to be. Harry left the restroom and joined the Aurors who had gathered in the Ministry's atrium, Auror Gillings standing in the midst.

"Remember, if any of you spot Mr. Weasley," he paused for a moment, letting his gaze fall directly into Harry, "detain him by any means necessary."

Harry took a deep breath and Flooed out with everyone. He had been mentally and emotionally preparing himself for the gruesome mess that would meet him at the house, but he quickly realized that it had been in vain.

Hermione had painted a vivid picture of what she had stumbled upon when she had found Draco dead, and Auror Gillings had relayed that information to everyone else. What they found, however, was a spic and span house.

"Spread out," Auror Gillings ordered. "Three of you head upstairs. That's where Mr. Malfoy's body is supposed to be."

They all did just that while Harry made sure to be one of the three to go upstairs. At the end of hall was nothing that said a murder had taken place. No blood. No broken wood in lieu of a cabinet which was, as it turned out, very much in tact. There was also no body of a dead blond. What Harry didn't expect to see was a grandfather clock in the corner and his insides burned the longer he stared at it.

"Either Mrs. Weasley's lying, someone cleaned up the mess, or both," Auror Gillings said as he came to stand next to Harry. "What do you think about that?"

Harry was beyond thinking at this point. A loud noise crashed outside and all of the Aurors, including the one beside him, hurried to it. Harry was on his way when a pair of hands shot out from a room and pulled him in.

" _Are you insane?!_ " Harry hissed as he looked into the face of a frazzled Ron. "I can arrest you!"

"But you're not going to," Ron gulped, "are you?"

Harry groaned and yanked on his hair, cursing every moment of this night and the consequences that were sure to follow.

"What happened?" Harry demanded. "Hermione's been arrested  _again_  and you're wanted for suspicion of murder! Please tell me that you didn't kill Malfoy like Hermione said you did."

Ron's ears and face tinged a deep shade of red as he averted his eyes. "It was an accident."

Harry swallowed deeply, a finger pointed towards the door as he probed for the truth. "The grandfather clock. That's Malfoy's body, isn't it? You transfigured it."

"After Hermione left I had to act fast and that was all that I could think to do. That and fixing the mess we'd made." Ron tiredly ran his hands over his face before abruptly letting them fall. "You said that Hermione was arrested again. If I'm wanted for Malfoy's death, what's she in for?"

"Oh, she's pegged for murder too since she was drenched in blood when she was arrested," Harry angrily scoffed. "But she's got an extra charge: time tampering."

"What?" Ron blinked as though that would help him to hear better. "What do you mean time tampering?"

"Exactly as it sounds like. She wanted to go back in time so Malfoy wouldn't die. Auror Gillings also thinks a time-turner was somehow involved in Astoria Malfoy's death, although that one is a stretch."

"Where'd he get  _that_  idea?"

"I don't know and I don't care. The point of the matter is that if Hermione wasn't in trouble before, she is now.  _Both of you._  And I… I can't do anything to help either one of you."

"Holy hell…" Ron breathed, his eyes widening with an overwhelming revelation. "I didn't even know we still had time-turners."

"Ron, did you pay attention to what I just said? You and Hermione are up the shit creek and I can't help you!"

"Where did she get the time-turner from?"

Harry snapped his mouth shut before narrowing his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Harry. That's my job, remember?" He added with an awkward chuckle. "Hermione was going to fix everything. She's locked up, you're an Auror… Let me do something before I can't."

Harry was conflicted. Things were already bad and everything was turning worse as the seconds ticked by and the sound of Aurors returning to the house and shouting his name reached his ears.

"It was in the Department of Mysteries. She was going to back to March 23rd, but I don't know why that particular date."

"Thanks," Ron smiled. "By the way, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Without warning Ron pulled his wand on him. "Stupefy!"

Harry crumpled to the ground immediately, and Ron disapparated. If he failed, his best friend didn't need to be arrested for aiding and abetting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gosh, do I love this chapter. Let me dedicate this to the lovely ladies of the Dramione Fanfiction Writers group on Facebook. Managed to knock two-thirds of this out in two 45-min word sprints. Love you all!
> 
> -WP :)


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